The Red Dragon Redux
by Arhani 'Hanny' Daforcena
Summary: Task Force 141's co-Lieutenant returns from a secret and bloody mission in Russia. When Fate parts her from her brothers in arms and MacTavish, she faces Makarov alone,threatened with the fate of her loved ones. Rewrite of the Red Dragon. Finished!
1. Prologue

"This is Red Dragon here, Papa Dragon, I have what you want, requesting immediate extraction," a woman's voice was clearly heard through the comms in the control room, where Shepherd and MacTavish were.

"Well done, Reddie. Come home to Papa. We're sending the skipper to escort you back to the Nest ASAP." With that reply, the commanding officer and the Captain of the Task Force 141 exited the control room, and headed to the helipad, where a helicopter was already waiting for MacTavish.

Codename "Red Dragon", was Ryuka Algren, a Lieutenant specializing in Black Operations and sniper cover, and the only single female in the field team of the Task Force 141. Born from a prominent American-Japanese dynasty of soldiers (and the youngest of that austere line), the redhead with the darkest black eyes, had been deployed into Russia for two weeks, during which time, she had gone "completely off the grid", which caused much worry, amongst those close to her, particularly, the Captain.

"Don't worry, MacTavish," Shepherd told MacTavish with a slap to his shoulder, a playful wink playing on the Lieutenant-General's features. "Reddie knows how to take care of herself, she'll be fine."

MacTavish groaned inwardly, and closed his eyes. While her results were unquestionable, this young woman, born of lightning and of fire, had a high predisposition to use "unplanned tactics", often, the expense of her own safety. He remembered the time when she deliberately shot dawn the roof-frames of the weakened warehouse that the Ultranationalists had cornered them in, pushing him, along with some of their teammates out while she cooked a grenade that she had thrown towards the impending Russians. She had almost failed to get out of the rubble, and his heart sank down deeper than as the Angel Falls were tall.

And, there was another time when they were in the Kyoto Mountains, when a chance mission brought them to meet the original Japanese female samurai-linage that had started the Algren line in America. Ryuka, in defense of her own family, had personally set a whole base ablaze, and was able to get those that had been captured by the enemy soldiers out, armed only with a katana that had been a family heirloom.

Ryuka had been one of the founding members of the Task Force 141, and MacTavish had known her for as long as he had assumed his duties as the sole Captain of the company-sized faction. They preferred to keep their relationship of four years, an almost monogamous series of trysts, supposed coups, and over-aggressive sparring matches, nothing more than an open secret, with Ryuka going as to openly flirting with Ghost, particularly when the rumor mill was active... MacTavish thought back on what Shepherd had said, and shook his head.

"I'm just afraid that she'll do something stupid," MacTavish answered back, knowing that Shepherd would disregard his comeback. The man had been a good Captain, and would look out for each and every single man that he led (less could be said about Shepherd, but MacTavish knew that he had no choice in those who were his superiors). "You know how she's like, sir."

With a smile, Shepherd replied. "I had eyes on Reddie this time, MacTavish. In fact, if everything goes well, who knows, we could be looking at _another_ Captain soon." It was MacTavish's turn to break into a smile, not a complete one, but halfway there. Once a soldier had gotten into the Task Force 141, whatever Shepherd said goes, but Ryuka, she had been a "special case", being a double citizen of both the United States and Japan. If she was promoted with Shepherd's green light, or any single American commanding officer, for the matter, she would be promoted in the Japanese Army by "Imperial Discretion". "Perhaps you two would fight less if you're on equal footing."

MacTavish did not say anything more, only hoping to see Ryuka as soon as possible. As it turned out, she was about an hour's helicopter flight from their landbase, in a wooden shack, covered in blood. "Don't worry, Captain," she told him with a knowing smile upon seeing the scowl on his face. "It's not mine." She had spoken those words in slight revulsion, indicating that she had not liked the experience.

"What the hell were you doing here for two weeks?" he asked her, drawing her into his arms for the slightest moment, blood on her catsuit and Kevlar corset notwithstanding. "You got me worried sick, Reddie."

She chuckled, the most heavenly sound that he ever heard in his life, a sound that he had waited two weeks to hear. "I'll tell you when I can, Captain," she replied, caressing the side of his face, her long, white finger running down his scar. In the four years that she had known him, she had always seen the scar upon his face, something that she had always known that was there, that was a part of him. "The trees, they have eyes to see and ears to hear, MacTavish..."

Inching her face closer to his, Ryuka pressed her lips against his, right before the pilot told them that it was time to leave. MacTavish said nothing more, and took her hand in his discreetly, leading her into the helicopter.

* * *

HAN: I am writing this, because I utterly detest what I have done on the first Red Dragon. I don't know where this will take the story, because I plan on restructuring the entire plot, and strengthening things here and there. I hope that those who had loved the original, would come to appreciate this one as well.


	2. Part 1: The Dreams of Reunion

"You've done good, Reddie," Shepherd told Ryuka as he inspected the device that she had brought back with her during the debrief. He did not tell her what it was for, only that they would be in dire states if the Russians got their hands on it. "You don't know how many lives that you would've saved."

Ryuka, on the other hand, wished that he could spare the pleasantries. Ever since she had been on an "indefinite loan" from the Japanese Defense Agency (the official name for the Japanese Army) to the United States Armed Forces, she had been working under Shepherd. She knew this man like the back of her hand. He, among all other people, had a talented eye for talent itself, and would stop at nothing to reach his goals. Five years ago, she had also served under him, when 30,000 Marines had been obliterated by a nuclear bomb in that obscure Middle East country, and she remembered that he shown not a single hint of emotion… If she had died out there in the field, Shepherd would just leave her there.

"Sir, with all due respect," she cut Shepherd mid-sentence, one of the rare times that she had shown any sign of defiance against him. "I've been out there for two whole weeks, I've tortured and killed a hundred men, and now, you have all the information on Makarov you need. I really need a bath."

Shepherd looked at her and nodded. "Well, you deserved it Reddie," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. This young one was not only perfectly capable, she was feisty and steadfast, and if she played out her cards right, she would come nothing short of a leader that the 141 would need in the future. She saluted him, and turned towards the door of his office, but just as she was about to leave, he added, "Your father would be proud of you."

Her father, like all the Algrens, had been a soldier as well. He had been the Commandant of the Marines, but had retired upon Shepherd's Middle East fiasco, in protest of the general's indifference towards everything that had conspired. However, he did not let his personal grudges stop his own daughter from entering the Task Force 141, only reminding the man that she was his youngest daughter, and that he would not want to see her come to any harm.

"I will pass your greetings to him," Ryuka returned, and dropped into a Japanese bow before she set foot outside his office. Unzipping the Kevlar corset around her waist, and flinging it onto her shoulder, Ryuka quickly walked through the base and headed for her quarters, which was the only one with an attached bathroom, seeing that she was the only female combatant in the field. At times, it was the only place in the world, where she could be herself, just Ryuka, a woman who liked what the next woman liked: sleek roadsters, expensive shoes, some cosmetics, and the perfect peach-scented shampoo.

* * *

MacTavish had followed her ever since she had emerged from Shepherd's office. He had seen her take off that infernal corset of hers (although its use apart from protecting her torso from enemy fire was rather redundant), and enter her own quarters with a bang. Hence, he crept slowly into the room, and closed the door as silently as he could. Within mere minutes, he could hear the sound of water rushing down, and the waterproof media system in her bathroom blasting a mix of Japanese and English rock songs…

She emerged from the bathroom about forty-five minutes later, all the dirt and grime removed from her hair and her body. And the moment she had opened the door, he could have sworn he had seen a red-headed angel, all wrapped up in a green towel. "Hello there, John," she greeted, with a highly seductive smile, which only he had seen before. A Ryuka after her bath was a Ryuka that was perfectly agreeable, which was what he preferred at the moment of time. He knew that she could sense him coming, she had told him, a long ago, that Japanese swordsmen were trained in the concept of "Ki", the internal energy that surrounded all beings.

Taking slow strides, he walked towards her, and wrapped her in his powerful arms, feeling her warm hands upon his well-sculpted chest. "I missed you," he said into her ear, his voice, a mix between a low growl and a whisper. Her reply, was a soft purr when his hot breath met the skin where her neck ended, and her shoulders began, her fingers lightly touching his ruggedly handsome face.

"And I you," she replied, placing a peck on his cheek. "However infuriating you might be." She could have gone on, but he silenced her with a straight kiss on her lips, one that quickly changed from that of sweet reunion, to that of deep passion. She could tell from that kiss, that he was more than just worried for her, but she knew that it could only be made known between the two of them, for they were soldiers, they were used to danger, they were used to the feeling that at any time and place, someone they knew and they had cared for, would be dead or dying.

She could feel him backing her against the wall, her hands held to each side of her head while he dived in closer for yet another kiss. Bringing her slim legs around his waist, she moaned as he began to nibble on one of her collarbones, easily slipping off the towel that she had wrapped around her body, the utter embodiment of perfection of the female form.

"Have you no sense of propriety, you perverted asshole of a Scotsman?" she asked him with a little chuckle. Her dark eyes, they seemed to be glazed with a film of thick desire, and yet, she was still exhibiting a massive amount of self-control that he himself would have lost in moments like these. In fact, she was teasing him, something that she had always done. Of course there was no propriety when Ryuka was concerned, the redhead had him wrapped around her finger from the moment they had met one another…

MacTavish said nothing else. He took one of her soft brown nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently. He knew, like all women, she preferred foreplay over the actual act itself. "You're right," he replied, now licking a trail from where he had just attacked, down to the valley of her cleavage, right up to the other mound of flesh that he could barely cover with his large, calloused hand (hence, her lack of need for the corset unless to protect her from enemy fire).

"Captain…" she murmured, something more substantial than a moan, utterly grateful for the gesture, and the fact that he had her pinned against the wall. And then, it came, that smirk that told her that he had a very, very evil idea up his head. "MacTavish, don't you dare try anything…" she warned, and felt his hands encircle her waist. Within mere milliseconds, she felt her body leave the surface of the wall, right in the center of her quarters, and a long ways from the bed.

"And here I was, thinking that the great Ryuka Algren was half an acrobat," MacTavish said, raising an eyebrow as Ryuka sought to free herself from his arms. Whether it was leaping from tree-branch to tree-branch, or through rocky terrain, her lithe form was nothing short of astounding when she would display her highly impressive set of skills. However, right then and there, she would be at his mercy… "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

If they were hanging over a cliff, and she had been cling onto him for dear life, she would have trusted him. If they had been in a life and death situation, she would have given everything in the world to hear those words. She smiled nervously, and raised her eyebrow sheepishly. "I will kill you if you do," she told him, making sure that he did not try anything that she would regret.

Thankfully, MacTavish did nothing of the sort; instead, he just laid her on the bed, and crept on top of her, stopping when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Get some sleep, Ryuka, you probably need it more," he said. He could see how tired Ryuka was, particularly from the dark circles around her eyes. "You look more like a panda more than a Japanese dragon."

It seemed that at that time, Ryuka decided to follow his lead, and crept into his arms, after he pulled the blankets around her. It had been two weeks since she had done anything like this, and frankly, she preferred it more than a more… passionate reunion anyways. That, could be saved for later.

* * *

_The dark Pyongyang winter's night, was more than just cold, it was down right terrifying. Rows and rows of fully-guarded mansions dotted the streets, one more impressive than the other. They had been fighting from one end of the residential district to the other, dodging more than just bullets, but also several flamethrowers, and several Molotov cocktails. _

"_We're freaking low on ammo!" Roach complained as he shot down yet another North Korean soldier. "Reddie, where the hell are you?"_

_Ryuka, was not as free as Roach was. "I'm a little bit… tied up right here," she whispered into the comms. Things were going bad. She was still trapped in the garage of the North Korean general whose mansion they had broken into. Amongst the fleet of Rolls-Royces, Ferarris and Bugattis, she was taking cover against another sharpshooter. "Give me ten minutes, I promise that I will get there."_

_It seemed that the sharpshooter heard her, and fired a round of bullets at her, causing her to leap high into the air, landing on the roof of a rather beautiful SUV. "Looks like our little kitten has finally come out," that man's voice was rather light, but cold, with a highly evident Russian accent. There seemed to be nothing in that voice, only the dark rage, a frosty age that had traded a more masculine tenor into a mezzo-soprano. She could tell that whoever this man was, he was pure evil… However, what was a Russian doing in Pyongyang?_

"_Come over here and we will see who is the kitten," she challenged him, emptying her used clips, and unsheathing her katana instead. She could not see the man's face through the ski mask that he had worn, only his mouth, and his eyes, and those eyes, were ones that she had never laid eyes upon before in her life. Heterochromia iridium had been a common rarity, and she had seen many with that strange condition, but she had not seen eyes of blue and green so intense in her entire life. _

_Quickly disregarding her fascination of the man, she quickly launched an aerial attack upon him. If she had planned it right, she would be able to cut him down and split him into two vertically. However, he was no ordinary fighter. This man, he looked at her, and raised his AK-47 above his head, causing her katana to cut through the weapon instead. "You are without a doubt a Daughter of a Dragon," he told her. _

_At that moment, she did not think how and why he had known this fact. All she knew, was that she was pressed for time, and she had to fight him back if she was to get to the LZ in time. Getting into her stance, upon bent knees and her left foot before her right, she sheathed her katana and dashed towards him, a double attack; the first, a blunt strike to his waist with the saya (or sheath) of her katana, and the second, would cut his back with the cutting edge of her katana. _

_The man had taken the first, false strike, but he was a fast learner, and quickly leapt out of the trajectory of her attack. Instead, he held her back, forcefully, looking into those dark eyes of hers, just as she had looked into his just moments prior. "Who are you?" she asked him, in awe, and partly in fear. She had not met a man that could anticipate her every move, not even adapt to her attacks. _

"_I can become all that you wish me to be, darling," he told her, trailing his fingers down her soft, red hair. Those words seemed to work as an immediate catalyst. Without even thinking, she pressed her lips against his, and kissed him with all she had in her, even the hope that she could get out alive. The very moment she knew that his attention had been drawn from her, she tightened her hold on her katana and slashed his leg before back-flipping towards the door. It was not a cut that could have severed his entire leg off, but deep enough to have him kneeling on the ground in pain.

* * *

_

This dream… had once been a memory. A year ago, Ryuka had come face to face with a shadow that had haunted her ever since she had started her career as a soldier. A year ago, she had met eyes with the man that they in the Task Force 141 has been formed to destroy. And thanks to what she had done in Russia, they would be one step closer to achieving that goal.

She only hoped that for this once, they would not be following a false lead. She had been haunted by him, by the memory of him, the shock and the pang of fear that she had never felt before, when she had met him. And above all, she had been frightened, by how easy it had been for her to come up with a tactic like that, to draw his attention by a kiss, and how… unwilling she had been, to bury that memory into the deepest vestiges of her own mind…


	3. Part 1: The Hunter Shadowed

This had been the few occasions when he was alone, and when he had time to think. Throughout the course of two weeks, he had received word that his forces, men loyal to the old Ultranationalist causes, men who were not like the current morons hogging the Kremlin, had been killed off, one by one, amounting to about a hundred men.

Now, when those deaths had been considered on a case-to-case basis, there was practically nothing to be worried of. They could have either been killed by people in the Underworld that they had offended, or, Vorshevsky's men. However, when all those dead men had been laid side by side, the sequence of their deaths contemplated perfectly, he knew, that something was wrong, very, very wrong indeed.

The last few deaths, had been particularly shocking. Those men, had been people who had aided him to organize his latest attack, people who had been those whom he had trusted, those whom he had respected. And the thing was, all of them had been mauled and tortured to no end, in the most inhumane ways possible.

* * *

"_His body was charred from the inside," Viktor had told him after an autopsy of the body before them had been carried out. "And, we've found generators and jumper cables… He must have been electrocuted, with increasing voltages…"_

"_The poor man," Anatoly lamented, looking at another body. "Look at his fingers… they've been cut off, joint by joint!"

* * *

_

And those, had not been the most gruesome ones. Where they had suspected that this supposedly unknown torturer had been almost compromised, they had discovered whole bodies, severed into nine parts, in clean slices… There had been another, which was horizontally separated, and yet another, in a vertical manner. Their forensic scientists had discovered that only a Japanese katana could have wrought such devastating harm to the human body, wielded with the strength and expertise of a seasoned warrior…

He knew that there was only one person possible that could have done this, so close to his trail… The Red Dragon. For five years, ever since that day in the burning sands in the Middle East, when he had given Khaled al-Asad the nuclear bomb which had destroyed 30,000 Marines, she had been trailing him, wherever he had been. He knew that only she could have done such a thing, because everything that had been dismembered, had been sliced off cleanly, capable only by a katana. And he himself, had witnessed its cutting power, when she had cut down his AK-47, which he had prudently used to parry her attack, or he would have met an end just like that of her victims.

And that night in Pyongyang, he had laid eyes upon her for the first time… He would not be mistaken, it was her. Red hair, burning eyes of black, bearing a katana like in the tales of ancient Japan when daughters of a secret samurai clan would fight in the country's bloody wars alongside the men, the living descendant of a Dragon from the heavens. Oh, he had heard the stories, mainly because the Algrens in America had been descended from that line as well… He had written an entire thesis on how these Daughters of the Dragons had caused change in Japan in the times of the Meiji Restoration, and in turn, from their own descendants, changed the American military via the Algren clan, during his days in Frunze Military Academy.

When he first looked at her, he had been highly astounded; a woman, fighting actively in the field. When she had drawn her katana, he had been utterly impressed, and when she started to attack him, he could feel that fire that burned within her soul, every single particle of it, that she was a woman, in the field because she desired a life more than what an ordinary woman could have lived… She would shape the destiny of the world, one bullet and one stroke of her classic weapon, at a time.

But when she had brought her soft, red lips to his, in that desperate moment to take his mind off her, he had felt something that he had never felt before in his entire life, something that he could not place. It made him yearn for her more than ever, and it… amused him. She tasted of roses, and something particularly spicy that he could not name, but made him only want to taste it again. Her ability to adapt to the situation, and to find a way out no matter how, would be an inspiration to all.

However, he knew that this had nothing to do with the fact that she was clearly an enemy soldier. With every step that he had taken, she had followed him, and no matter what he had done, she was still hot on his trail… There was once when he had acted on a hunch, and simply implied to a bunch of Chinese radicals that hated the Japanese to the core, that Japan's strength, had come from the Daughter of the Dragons, causing them to plot the destruction of the line's current descendants. Of course, her organization had discovered it, and there had been no doubt, that she was the one who took down the entire base that they had set up as well…

* * *

"Makarov, there's someone who wishes to see you," a familiar voice broke his thoughts on that elusive beauty, and when he looked up, finding Anatoly with a confused look on his face. "It is the American…"

Ah, the traitorous general that had contacted him. There had been not a doubt at all that this man, had been the Red Dragon's superior. He had come into contact with that man, ever since the news of the strange, horrifying deaths had spread to him, which had ended abruptly, following the death of his new agent, Alexei Borodin…

"Bring him in," he told Anatoly, fully expecting to see the man for himself. And when the general appeared before him, he was impressed with what he had seen. He had always prided himself on being an excellent judge of character, and he could immediately see that this man was after the same thing that he was: vengeance. Nothing more, and nothing less.

The general was an elderly man, but this did not mean that he was an easy picking. No, this man knew what he wanted, and knew the best how he would acquire it. "Vladimir Makarov," the man greeted with a curt nod of his head, and he returned the gesture.

"Lieutenant-General Shepherd," he replied, heterochromic eyes looking into the cold, blue ones that Shepherd had. "I am surprised. Your latest mission has killed a hundred men of mine in half a month, even a fool would not have dared to try a move as this."

Shepherd smirked. "All to capture your attention," he replied. "And know that I have succeeded, I have a deal to make with you."

He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his office chair. "My price for the likes of you is high," he told Shepherd. And at those words, Shepherd threw a file at him, as if he had read his mind. Flipping at the pages in the file, he immediately realized that it was the personal files of the Red Dragon, down to every single last detail. Ryuka Algren, aged 26, a double citizen of Japan and the US, the youngest daughter of the Algren military dynasty, a graduate from King's College with a degree in Military history and organization… And more than that, there were mission specifications on every single mission that she had taken, which had confirmed his theories.

"The both of you seem to have a unique history, and she's only the icing on the cake," Shepherd retorted. "I've known the girl ever since she started working "on loan" for the US army."

"And so, practically a daughter in your eyes," he replied, still looking at her files. Accepted into an elite Japan-US-UN military program at fifteen, she had been trained and school in everything related to the armed forces, and was further specialized in Black Operations… So young, and already so accomplished, there was not a doubt that she would have a bright future… "What is the point of you promising me a woman, we are no longer in ancient times."

The older man just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do you mean to tell me that you've never been bewitched by her at all?" Shepherd asked him. "I mean, after your… encounter in Pyongyang. She is more than just a Black Ops specialist, Makarov. She can be the perfect companion for you, and more than that, she is always wanting… more. You know that feeling, don't you?"

He knew just exactly what Shepherd meant. It was not greed, although he had accumulated a vast amount of wealth from his escapades throughout the many ways the Ultranationalists had to fund their operations in their early years… It was ambition. It had not been enough to just be at where he was currently; there was always a higher star to reach out, to pick from the heavens, and to snuff out.

"And besides," Shepherd added. "I'll promise you something more… Total war between America and Russia."

At those six words, his eyes widened immediately. Why would this man even dare to imply this? Although the tensions between the two countries had been strained, war between the two strongest countries of the world would result in total disaster. Economies would fall, civilians murdered along with soldiers… It would bring about the ending of the world as they knew it.

"And how would you benefit from this exchange?" he asked the general, getting more and more suspicious of him by the minute. If even he had been a terrorist, with a sea of blood to his name, at least, he would have done all that he had done, in the name of his country. Perhaps the children of tomorrow would spit at his name, but at least he did not betray his own nation. But this man… he was willing to sell his country out for its greatest enemy, and for what? Vengeance?

"I would get to show the world that the US army is still the strongest military force in the world," Shepherd answered simply. "And you, will be able to rally Russia against the US with little difficulty…"

In honest truth to himself, he was already sold. Even the notion that they would be able to pit Russia against America had been enough to move him. However, he knew that he could not reveal his own thoughts to the other man, for one who could betray his own country to the enemy, certainly, was not a man to be trusted in any way. "And how would you want me to start this war?" he asked cautiously.

"Make your attack on Zakhaev International Airport look like an American attack," Shepherd explained. "I will provide you with an American agent standing in as Alexei Borodin. Speak in English, use NATO weapons… you know the drill, and make sure that the FSB notices my agent first, and confirm that he's an American."

"I will consider it," he replied, "If I agree, I'll contact you in three days… There would be… adjustments that I'll have to make."

Shepherd smiled. The general knew just as much as he did, that there was nothing that he had to lose, save for the loss of several hundred Russian lives. This was the price that they would have to pay, for the restored glory of all Russia. And, for the notion that he would finally get his hands on the one woman that had shadowed his every step, it was practically a done deal.

* * *

Now, all Shepherd needed to do, was to find the perfect man for the job. The process had to be relatively quick, for he could not risk anything to be laid out in the open for too long, and, with the relative importance of the 141, he could not just get one of his boys (and girl) to do the job…

Ah, yes, the US Army Rangers, the elite infantry unit of the US Armed Forces. These boys were all willing to do what it took to get the job done, and he knew that there was just the guy who could do it, as well, and the best thing of all: he could speak Russian.


	4. Part 1:The Same Shit, on a Different Day

It was two a.m. in the morning, an ungodly hour.

However. It was still an hour when MacTavish had to rise. In about two hours, he and Roach would have to be deployed into the heart of the Tian Shan Mountains on a mission to retrieve an ACS module that the Russians had stolen. If those fiends were able to get a hold of the information that it contained before they were able to get it back… MacTavish just shuddered at the thought of it.

A week had passed, since Ryuka had returned from her two-week long mission, and she had been in the base for the past week, catching up on her duties as the co-lieutenant of the Task Force 141, which usually meant cleaning up the paperwork that Ghost did not want to do at all. Things… had been peaceful, for the past week, apart from the occasional brawl in the mess hall, and Meat accidentally flooding the showers…

It had been a week, since Ryuka had returned from Russia, and every single night since then, they had spent with one another, locked in passionate embrace, as though they had to catch up on lost time (and it was a good thing that all personnel quarters were soundproof as well). That night, had not been different, and when he looked at her, sound asleep in his arms, it just brought a smile to him, knowing that she was safe there, with him, and with the boys.

Brushing a strand of hair off her face, MacTavish kissed her eyelid softly before moving to her forehead, the best way to wake her up without having her unsheathe her katana right at him. "What time is it?" she growled, covering her head beneath the blankets without opening her eyes. Just as Ryuka would be in a fabulous mood after her bath, she was more vicious than she usually was in the battlefield, when she had just woken up. MacTavish knew that he had to be careful around her, particularly at these moments.

"It's two in the morning," he whispered into her ear, lightly nibbling on her earlobe after rather forcefully pulling down the blanket. "You're heading to Afghanistan with Shepherd on the sub, remember?" That day itself was the day that Shepherd would have selected another guy into the 141, and she would be the one who would induct him into the 141, seeing that most of them, were in various other places on missions of their own.

Cursing in Japanese, Ryuka reluctantly sat up, and rubbed her eyes a little, causing MacTavish to pull his arms to her side, and kiss her temple. "Would you be alright without me watching your back?" she asked him, after a few minutes more of indulgent laziness. "You are handling Roach all on your own, you know."

He just chuckled, and nodded his head. Roach was the FNG, well, not anymore, anyways, a few years younger than Ryuka had been, but was rather… ill-fated, to say the least. It seemed that wherever he went, ill-fortune would always follow him, even though he tried his best. However, with all that bad luck around him, he still managed to come out alive, which earned him the name "Roach", and was one of the FNGs that the both of them had personally trained and coached.

"It's Roach that you'll have to worry about, Reddie, not me," he told her, with a chaste kiss to her lips, something which she had quickly seized control of, and deepened, until she had pinned him down beneath her, kissing a trail from his temple to his collarbone. Always a firecracker, he mused, and brought his large hands to either side of her waist. "Ryuka, we'll both be late," he chided, after a particularly erotic kiss, in which their tongues had danced freely between their mouths, with her fingers travelling to several places upon his body where she knew, would have had him highly aroused.

"And would the world would explode immediately if that helicopter waits for the good Captain for a few more minutes?" Ryuka asked in return when he rolled over, exchanging their positions, hence. He just loved how she spoke, without contractions, as though she had come out of some ancient fairy tale, or something like it. For someone who had spent her early childhood in America, well, it was rather… exotic, in a way. MacTavish kissed her again, this time, something lighter, and quicker than the previous one, or three… "Alright," she said in the end, "I yield."

MacTavish looked at her, not knowing what to do with her. "I'll see you in three days, Ryuka," he told her, hugging her rather tightly. "Hopefully, with the ACS module." At those words, Ryuka smiled, and peeled herself from his arms to face him.

"You will _have_ to come back with it, MacTavish," she reminded him with a smile. "I do not relish the idea of fighting Ghost for the position of the Captain."

He chuckled, something less than a roar of laughter, but something else more. "Same shit, different day, huh?" he asked her, earning final, sweet kiss on his lips from her.

* * *

12 hours later.

* * *

Ryuka was right beside Shepherd, looking at the US Army Rangers running through the Pit one by one. "Looks like they'll have a tough time getting over your time," Shepherd told her with a smirk. When the tech-guys at the CIA had just patented the armored catsuit she was wearing about two years ago, Ryuka had it out with a live-fire exercise in the Pit, armed with only her katana. She had completed the entire course in nineteen seconds, a feat that she was only able to repeat, and not beat, up until that day. Ghost and Mactavish, had cleared the course in 18 seconds flat, just because they were men, and were built differently.

"Just you wait, sir," she told him. "I saw a rather… promising individual just now. He will do just fine." Just a few moments ago, she had witnessed one Private First Class aiding his sergeant in training a few local soldiers on how to fire a gun and throw some grenades. It had not been a difficult task, but she could see the finesse and the skill that the kid had. There was no doubt that he would be running the course right about now.

"Ah, Private Allen," Shepherd replied, knowing whom she had indicated. "Very promising indeed… He's only twenty two this year, you know, a New Yorker, just like you, sweetheart."

Ryuka rolled her eyes at his words. "Sir, you know very well that I was a New Yorker for only the first eight years of my life, I lived in Kyoto after that." Shepherd, despite his varying beliefs regarding the welfare of his subordinates with her father, had been somewhat of an old acquaintance with Mr. Algren. They had been working together for a long time, ever since the first Iraq War, which had happened a year after Ryuka was born. In those days, Shepherd had been "Uncle Shep", and not "Papa Dragon", or just "sir". _However, there's just someone else that Daddy trusts more than you,_ Ryuka said in her heart. _Jiji, where the hell are you?_

"I was just pulling your leg, Reddie," he told her with an almost uncle-like wink. "When can you learn to take a joke like your sister?" Her older sister, Ryurei, had been less of a stalwart warrior than she was, preferring to make light of the situation, so that everything would not seem so somber, even in the worst of times. "How is she in the UN Intel?"

"One-chan is doing fine, thank you," Ryuka answered, and it was a genuine answer. "She's back in Kyoto on three weeks' leave." Times like these with Shepherd were few and far between; but still, it did not shake off the fact that he had been her immediate superior, the one who was able to dictate her life and death, he needed to.

The beginning of Allen's run stopped their conversation, and immediately, their eyes were fixed upon the young man, who was moving along the Pit rather swimmingly. He had an almost feline-like quality to him, moving in and out of the obstacles smoothly, taking out the targets he needed to.

"He has some skill with a knife," Ryuka commented when Allen had to melee a target that was blocking the doorway on the second floor. The rest, was smooth sailing for the man, and he had completed the course in 19.5 seconds, after which, Ryuka could take a deep breath. Personally, she would run the course again and again if he could beat her time, until the favor was returned. However, that did not mean that it was not a bad result altogether, in fact it was phenomenal, to a certain extent. "Congratulations, sir, you have another member in the 141."

Shepherd nodded. However, just as he opened his mouth to say something, they heard a loud bang, and the black smoke became immediately visible in the distant horizon. "God damn the OpFor," Ryuka cursed. There was no time to lose, having a situation upon their hands.

"Reddie, get on the chopper, and get back to the sub!" Shepherd exclaimed. "You're here to train the FNG, leave the mini-battles to the Rangers, honey." Ryuka protested, strongly, at that. "That's on order, Reddie, don't let me repeat myself. MacTavish will start a mutiny if anything happens to you. The Rangers'll handle this, don't worry!" Then, he turned towards one of the Rangers. "Get the lieutenant out of here, pronto!"

Knowing that she had no other choice, Ryuka resigned to her fate, and got on the helicopter, and from the air, she could see the Rangers fighting with the OpFor, the battle situated on both sides of a river, sending more than just bullets across. She had fought the OpFor before, and although they were no more dangerous than the Ultranationalists were, they were a dying faction, they were without hope, and they would fight down to the last man…

Shepherd was a lucky man, unlike Roach. Ryuka knew that the general would be fine. She just hoped that the new FNG would survive this. Her katana's open blade reflected the light of the sun, and it reflected upon the walls of one of the schools that they had taken from the OpFor, unwittingly reflecting on one of them. From how low they had been flying towards the LZ, waiting for Shepherd, she could see that Allen took sight of the light, and with a light flick of her wrist, the OpFor soldier was blinded, and Allen had the chance to shoot him down, changing the tides.

Her black eyes could see that this young man, filled with determination, would be a great addition to their team. She would make sure that this kid survives whatever mission he would be in... She would make sure that he would survive even the greatest of the conflicts in the future…

She got down from the helicopter when she could see Shepherd and Allen, and she smiled. The kid was alright, a little shaken up, but alright. "Good to see you boys," she greeted, slapping Shepherd on the back, while nodding her head at Allen. "Good job, FNG," she said to the kid. "You're with us now."

* * *

Allen was more than just astonished. Just little more than half an hour ago, he and his unit had just destroyed an OpFor attempt to take over the nearby town, and now, he was part of the international elite squad, the Task Force 141, which had an extremely hot lady, who was talking to him right now. Oh, and that they were on a helicopter, heading to a place where he did not pay attention enough to hear where the hell they were heading to.

"Welcome to the Task Force 141, kid," she told him, obviously knowing what was going in his mind. "Hey, eyes above the Kevlar, Allen." Allen flushed, apologizing profusely. She chuckled, and said, "It's alright, from this moment on, you are the FNG, and you will have to follow the orders of all those above your own rank, Private First Class. Until we can find a suitable call-sign for you, since you do not have one, you are going to be the FNG for now."

"Whatever you say, ma'am," Allen said, fully comprehending her words, or rather, stopping himself from checking the Lieutenant out. "I'm all ears." The landing was a little bumpy, but they made it, right on top of a massive-looking submarine. "What the hell is this?" He had seen submarines before, but not one as big as this one.

The Lieutenant smiled. "This is our sub, Allen. Our home away from home. It is now yours, FNG. Welcome home."

* * *

HAN: Thanks to all those who read this, and virtual cookies to ecto1b and Carovinee for reviewing! I think that this version would run at a slower pace, but would carry more detail and depth. ^.^ I hope that you would enjoy this version more, as ecto1b has mentioned so kindly. Make sure that y'all check out her fic, the Ghost that Haunted Me!


	5. Part 1: The Hope Placed Upon the One Man

"I want these exact same tattoos on him, Martin," Ryuka told the African-American soldier that was busy mixing the pigments necessary for Allen's "transformation", to say the least. She handed him a photograph, and the one named Martin nodded to her. Allen could see that she was more than the Lieutenant. She was a force to be immediately respected. "Make them look like Russian tattoos, more blue than black."

Martin shook his head and said, "Reddie, I've seen more Russian tattoos on Russians than you have killed them Russians. I know how Russian tattoos look like." Then, Martin turned to Allen and said, "Alright, FNG, let's get you a mean tattoo…" Allen smirked, and pulled up his shirt. "And if you think that you'll impress her with those pecs, Allen, she's the Captain's Lieutenant, if you know what I mean."

Ah, no wonder she was so… defensive of herself. Ryuka swatted Martin on the arm, and rolled her eyes. "Do not believe him, FNG," she told him. "There is nothing between the Captain and I…"

"Yeah, yeah," Martin replied. "The day all of us believe that will be the day Roach gets lucky."

Allen did not even want to know who "Roach" was. It was just another story in the ranks of the 141, which he would have to learn one at a time. However, it was quite… weird, in that they were just like one big family, where the superiors would just joke about with their subordinates, and vice versa. "So, what do I have to know about Vladimir Makarov?" he asked Ryuka, hoping that she would have at least an inkling of him…

"Makarov is an Ultranationalist leader, one of what they call the Council of Ten," Ryuka answered. "This is what we know as the inner-circle of the Ultranationalists… However, the other nine, cannot 'control' him. Makarov was ousted out of the inner-circle, and he now fights his own war, against the Ultranationalists that betrayed Imran Zakhaev's true mission, and the Western world…"

"And that's what they all say, right?" Allen asked her, hoping to find an answer. However, Ryuka said nothing, as if a sudden fit of silence had caught her. "You mean, that's all you know about him?"

Martin looked at Ryuka, and removed his gloves. She must have given the man a gesture that he could not have seen. "I have been in Russia for two weeks before you came here, and I have tortured a hundred men, all loyal to Makarov and to Makarov alone… This information, has not even reached Shepherd, but you have to listen to me, and listen to me well."

At those words, Allen immediately straightened up. "I'm all ears, ma'am," he said, and she petted his shoulder as a sign of recognition of that fact.

"Vladimir Makarov is more than just a loose cannon terrorist like how Shepherd, or the world thinks he is," Ryuka said. "I have seen many things there in Russia, but there is nothing like that of a hundred men being so loyal to one man that they would rather withstand torture than death."

* * *

_The shack was filled with more than just weapons, it was filled with cables, various drugs, chairs, chains, generators, car batteries, and the sole, gleaming katana that shone underneath the single florescent light. __There was a man, bearded and dark-haired, sitting underneath the light, his hands bound onto the elaborate design of the chair. Curse those Swedes and their "innovative" designs!_

"_I do not want to take off another joint of your finger," the woman said to the man__ in fluent Russian, holding up his right hand to his eyes rather forcefully. There was no emotion in her dark eyes; no fear, no hatred nor anger, but only the need to get the job done. "I just need you to tell me what Makarov has planned for the Zakhaev International Airport."_

_The man did not answer her. Even as drugged, battered and broken as he had been, he would not give in to mere torture. "I won't defile myself for such a small price," he spat, saliva ending up right on her Kevlar corset. She did not respond to this, but still, __it was progress that she had made, a small one, but progress nonetheless. "Even if I die, he will continue…"_

"_And if he continues whatever he has planned, more people will die," she told him. She needed to sound convincing, or he would not believe her at all. She was there to extract intel from these people, and she knew that he would be the last one. She had said those words, because she assumed that Makarov would just bomb the airport, but it in itself was a massive feat. This was because not only did Zakhaev International Airport serve as a major airport for local flights; it played an important role regionally as well. To put it shortly, that airport serviced more than just the Russians themselves, but the entire world. "Would you want that kind of blood upon your hands?"_

_The man coughed. "It is a price that we must pay," he replied. "And one day, when our work is done, we will honor them, as we would spit upon your graves!" _

"_I think that it you have done enough spitting for today," she said, cleaning her corset with a seemingly white rag on the table. "Come now; let us not play such childish games any more… Apart from the deaths of thousands, what does Makarov plan to do?"_

_Still, there was nothing. The woman seemed so enraged that she backhanded the man, causing him to spew blood in all directions. This man, was not like the others before him, weak and easily broken, although he had been every single bit just as loyal to Makarov as the other ones had been. "When Makarov is done with Western __dogs like you, he will create a new world order…"_

"_Then why would he need this?" she asked him, __holding up a matte black external hard drive, one that could store massive amounts of data, data that most probably contained the latest information on Makarov's operations. . It had been found on the man's person as she had been torturing him, and it seemed to be of importance to him… _

"_Do you think that this is the only one?" he asked her in return. __And with those words, yet another joint of his finger came off. He now only had seven fingers left. _

"_Well then, I guess that you will have to make do with only seven fingers, then," she commented, shaking her head slightly. "And it is such a waste, a man like you. We could use such loyalty…"__ She could not imagine that kind of loyalty in one man. She could not imagine why he would serve under Makarov, under the pain of torture, he was still unwilling to reveal a shred of information to her. _

_If she had a choice, she would not take down this man piece by piece, literally, but orders were orders, and her only consolation was that this would be the last man she would __have to extract information from… She would do so, and she would do so, like a soldier that she was. Thus, when she knew that the hard drive consisted of every single detail that pertains to the operation of Zakhaev International Airport on a certain day, that man was no longer of use. _

_In all irony, she made his death fast, by aiming a bullet from her .45 into his head.

* * *

_

"Allen, what I retrieved, was only a backup of what they have planned," Ryuka told the young FNG. "And this man that I took it from, he was one of Makarov's most trusted followers. If we would implicate him, he would serve five lifetimes in the highest security prison on earth. To earn Makarov's trust, you must do as he does. You must be just like him, because Alexei Borodin was the son of one of his former comrades, and in life, he wishes for nothing more than to aid Makarov as his father had done."

If at that moment, Allen was about to crack a joke, Ryuka's expression stopped him. It was grim and severe, and ultimately serious. Her dark eyes were aglow with an inner fire that Allen understood, but could not place, and he knew that it was not a good time for a good-hearted laugh at all. "So do you guys know what he's gonna do at the airport?"

"He is going to massacre every single person in that airport," Ryuka answered. "And you are going to have to act like you are enjoying it…" Even she had a hard time conveying the message. "Allen, I am serious here. Torturing and killing the enemy is one thing. Killing innocents, men, women and children is another. I will be honest to you; it is going to be the hardest thing that you will ever do. You will have to live through it, and you will have to commit worse things to earn Makarov's trust… This is your duty as a soldier, Allen. This is what you are tasked to do."

Allen gulped. In all honesty, at that moment in time, he was afraid; afraid at more than just what was to come, but the future as well. "With all due respect, ma'am, if that's what I hafta do for the future, then I'll just do it."

Ryuka petted his shoulder, and said, "Then, let us all pray that you will succeed in this mission, Allen." Martin had already returned to the room, and resumed his work on Allen's chest and torso. "There must always be war before peace," she continued. "In times like these, peace must be forcibly taken from those that threaten to destroy it."

When Shepherd came in after the completion of the tattoo, and from then on, Ryuka took her leave. Makarov… he was more than just an enemy, he was an enigma. And still, her path lied in his shadow… There was so little that they knew about him, so little that they knew, hence they were incapable of anticipating his move.

She had hoped that with the presence of Allen, and the Intel that he would provide them with, things would change. It was a hope that she knew had immediately misplaced.

Naught two days later, Allen's dead body laid in the Zakhaev International Airport, along with those that he had killed. Makarov had seen through his cover, and he was punished for it. They were pushed immediately three steps backwards, and Ryuka knew more than that, Makarov was already on high alert.

* * *

As she watched that news networks air report after report regarding the attack, she could not help but wonder, who could have broken Allen's cover… She did not speak of it, but she sensed betrayal. However, in those turbulent times, her thoughts would have to remain her own, for the time being.

Her dark eyes, they saw only the darkness of the future, and she remained in such a mood, even until MacTavish entered her quarters after he had returned from Kazakhstan with Roach. "We heard about Allen," he told her, kissing her temple. She looked at him, and nodded. "Why are you so worried?" MacTavish had known that a long time ago, that if you put an FNG into a high-value mission, you are going to end up with a mess.

"John," Ryuka murmured, "Vorshevsky is going to push for total war between Russia and America… Thousands are going to die, and this is what you say when this kind of shit happens?"

MacTavish knew that he was supposed to be comforting her, but first, he had to acknowledge the fact that it was kind of… weird to hear Ryuka curse, especially when her form of speech had been so formal. Winding his arms around her from behind her, he rested his head on the crook of her neck, feeling her run her hand down his Mohawk as though it was some sort of endangered cat. "That's what we're here for, Reddie," he told her, kissing the arch of her neck. "When, as you said, shit happens to the world, we clean it up."

She sighed, and he knew that he did not cause it. "And what if we can't clean this mess up?" she asked him, looking into those ice-blue eyes that had captured her soul, she took his face in her long, white fingers. "John, I can't explain why, but I have a bad…"

The Captain did not allow her to continue. He just kissed her, and leaned her onto the bed. It was not as comfortable as the one back in their landbase, but it would have to do. If anything, there would be a huge possibility that they would all have to go on a mission following this fiasco, and the last thing that he wanted was a pessimistic Lieutenant. He would rather be utterly angry at him than to be lost in such dark thoughts.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Ryuka," he reassured her, when the kiss broke. "I promise you."

* * *

HAN: I'm sorry for not updating yesterday! I was out and about town with my family, and watched some movies at home with the family. ^.^ Sorry!


	6. Part 1: Takedown

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Submarine-Base (Location classified)

* * *

"We are in deep trouble," Ryuka said once everyone was assembled for the briefing. MacTavish was right, just a few hours after he had returned from Kazakhstan, Shepherd had called them out for a mission. Her words were not quieted, meant for all to hear, as Shepherd showed them news reports of what had transpired in the airport.

Ghost agreed with her. "You're right, love," he said to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The Russians ain't gonna let this massacre go unanswered. It's gonna get bloody." The Russians were not particularly famous for being the most gracious people. Allen had screwed up, and paid with his life. Somehow, Makarov had blown off his cover, and there was nothing they could do to stop anything from coming right at them.

"Too right, mate," MacTavish added. "Now in the eyes of the world, they're the victims… Nobody's gonna say a word when the Russians club every American they can reach." He could see Ryuka glaring at him, particularly after how he had reassured her the night before, but it seemed that her vehemence had passed rather quickly, and without any consequence, quite luckily for him.

"Makarov was two steps ahead," Shepherd said, clearing the air immediately. "And now he's left thousands of bodies at the feet of an American…"

However, that was not good enough, not good enough to change the situation they were in. "We're the only ones who knew that it was Makarov's op," MacTavish said, "Our credibility died with Allen…" No one, not a single one could have believed them if they just popped out in front of the CNN and told them everything. America had always been labeled as a country that sells herself with the notion of war ever since the Second Iraq War. Apart from her closest allies, like the UK, Canada and perhaps the other NATO countries, no one would ever give a damn if America was indeed attacked by Russia. "We need proof…"

Shepherd acknowledged his words, and pressed a few keys on the keyboard. "Follow the shell," he said, and began running diagnostics of the bullets found near Allen's body. It seemed that the bullet was rather easily identified, taking only about two or three attempts. The bullet had not only been traced to Rio de Janeiro, but also to the man who had manufactured and sold it to Makarov. "Alejandro Rojas."

It was a foreign name to all of them. "Never heard of him, sir," MacTavish said, bringing the general consensus in the briefing room to the general. However, he was only met with a smile on Shepherd's part. Like the one he always had when he had a "surprise" for them.

"You know him as Alex the Red," the older man said. Ah, so it was one of the most elusive weapons-dealers, based both in Europe, and in South America. And from his files, it seemed that he owed Makarov a great deal, for Makarov had been one of his first customers, leading him to the contacts that enabled him to expand the South American arms black market into the size of China. "He's the one who supplied the assault."

"Who else is he _not_ supplying?" Ryuka muttered underneath her breath with a slight roll of her eyes, her dark eyes still focused upon Rojas' files. "Who is up for a trip to Rio?" she asked the boys, receiving a chorus of cheers following her playful suggestion.

MacTavish, rolled his temples with his fingers, as though he had been nursing a headache. "One bullet to unleash the wrath of an entire nation… Which means…"

"He's our ticket to Makarov."

* * *

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. And thus, to find the biggest rat of them all, in a series of networks that comprised of thieves, drug traffickers, illegal arms cartels and just your common hooligans, the Task Force 141 had decided to follow what they thought to be a rival organization around Rio de Janeiro to first track Rojas' assistant, who they hoped, would lead them to Rojas himself.

Ryuka was in the same car as Roach and MacTavish, while Ghost, Meat and Royce were in another. The others were in other parts of the city, tracking other leads, and awaiting orders to meet them the moment they had Rojas in tow. "We are very near Rochina," she commented, observing the clusters of dwellings built atop a rather tall hill behind the posh, lofty buildings that graced the landscape of the city.

MacTavish nodded, and was busy tapping some keys on the small computer that they had brought with them. "Ghost, the plates are a match," he said to the other Lieutenant over the comms.

"Copy," Ghost replied. "Any sign of Rojas' right hand man?"

"Negative," was the answer. "We've stopped twice already… No sign of him…"

"Captain, our luck is about to change," Ryuka warned, making sure that Ghost and the others could hear her as well. Right before them, the members of the rival cartel had gone into what seemed to be a hotel, and confronted a bald man with dark skin. Like Rojas, he did not seem to be a native Brazilian at all.

MacTavish noted Ryuka's observation, and watched on. "I've got a positive ID," he told Ghost. "Whoever these guys are, they're not happy to see 'em." They could see the two men pulling out their own pistols, and Rojas assistant, seemingly afraid of them, let them push him around for a little while.

But before long, he took out a Desert Eagle from his person, and began to shoot the two men. At point-blank range it was utterly devastating, for even their innards had been blown out of their very bodies, staining the curb more than just red, but also dotting the road and the pristine granite hotel entrance with traces of brown and black as well.

"He's seen us!" Ryuka shouted, ducking the very moment the man's head turned.

"Get down, get down!" MacTavish added, and Roach quickly did the same. Their driver, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. Three shots had been fired by the Desert Eagle towards their car. The first two broke the glass on the windshield, and the third, below the driver's brain off, quite literally. There was nothing more that they could have done for him, for Rojas' assistant turned tail, and from the sounds they heard, had fired at random cars on the streets, causing a total uproar. "Ghost, we're on foot! Meet us at the Hotel Rio and cut him off if you can!"

Ryuka, on the other hand, was already leaping from car-roof to car-roof, M4A1 in her hands, on high alert. She vaulted into the alley, following Rojas' assistant, and stopped him from advancing further. "This is where your road ends," she told him, ready to fire if he did anything. The man took a turn, and ran back towards the opening of the alley, but was shot in the leg by Roach. Quickly, she reached into the pouch strapped onto her right thigh and bound his arms with some cord. "Please, come with us."

They found an abandoned garage, which turned out to be the perfect place to interrogate the man. MacTavish dumped him on a chair, and Ryuka found a steel chain, winding it around his body and the chair as well, while Ghost prepared the car battery that they would use.

"Do you speak English?" Ryuka asked him, and there had been no response. She extended her index finger, a gesture that had been in a series of the sign language that they had formulated amongst themselves. Having seen this, MacTavish punched him in the face. One by one, she tried, Spanish, French, German… Still, no response. However, that was to be expected. "Ahou," she cursed in Japanese, calling him a moron before reverting to English. "Stubbornness will not earn you any favors…"

Still, the man refused to speak, and remained in his attempts to break free. "Roach, this is going to take some time," MacTavish told Roach, who had been waiting outside the garage with the others. "Go with Meat and Royce and check the favela for any sign of Rojas – That's where this guy is headed."

The three of them nodded, and went their way when MacTavish closed the shutter door. They would not have any of the local militia being alerted of their position. "Do you think he needs a little more convincing, love?" Ghost asked Ryuka, who was now cleaning her nails with a dagger that the boys had given her as a birthday prison two years ago.

"Increase the current," Ryuka said. "He understands English; there is no doubt about it…" From the way he was twitching about, she knew that this man had not been as able to withstand torture as the previous one she had strapped onto a car battery.

"Where is Rojas?" MacTavish asked him. He winced, but still, gave no response. "Come on, we don't have time to waste here!"

Ryuka took his wallet from him, and found a picture of his mother, and more than that, it was a picture of his mother and him, during his graduation ceremony, by the looks of it. Perhaps this man was not an all-round villain, but had no choice but to choose this dark path instead? "As people differ, so will the methods of extracting information from them," she said, placing a hand of MacTavish shoulder. "I have an idea… Ghost, decrease the current, increase the voltage."

"What… what are you trying to do to me?" Rojas' assistant stuttered. Voltage, and not current, was what killed in electric shocks. What he had felt now was almost painless, but his whole body was numbing down. He knew that this was not a good sign.

"Is this your mother?" Ryuka asked him, signaling Ghost and Roach to stay back. The man looked at her and nodded. "Where was this picture taken?" she asked further. "Your mother must have paid a lot to finance your studies… Is this how you repay her? If you defend Rojas, all you will have is the blood of thousands upon your hands, and no one, not even your mother will forgive you. How would she think of her son, who was supposed to have a future brighter than the sun? What would she say, if she finds out that you are working in an illegal arms cartel, when you were supposed to have a young, pretty wife, work in an air-conditioned office, and drive a Rolls Royce?"

Within moments, the man was already howling in tears, either from the pain or the revelation that he had let his mother down and Ghost, according to Ryuka's instructions, had alternated between increased current, and increased voltage. She was using both physical and psychological torture, a potent mix of the two, and MacTavish stood there, watching carefully with his arms crossed. Although she absolutely despised it, Ryuka had been trained to torture and to withstand torture, making her the most qualified person to do the job. And he had to admit, she was doing very, very well.

"Contact Roach," Ryuka told MacTavish, once she had the information. Meat and Royce had already fallen, and there would be a time to mourn for them. The time was not now, not when they had to locate Rojas immediately. "I know where Rojas is."

MacTavish nodded, and did accordingly. As it turned out, Roach was actually quite close to Rojas' current location, which they could now track, thanks to a device that they had nicked from Rojas' assistant, whom they had left there in the garage. The militia that he and Rojas allied themselves with would find him there… Perhaps.

* * *

"Roach, we've got Rojas' location!" Roach heard MacTavish's voice through the comms. "He's heading west to the upper levels of the favela, we'll keep him from doubling over at our side… Keep going and cut him off at the top!" That was good news, apart from the fact that it had come a little late, but very, very good news indeed. "Reddie's heading to the summit to provide sniper support," MacTavish added. "There's no time for backup, you're gonna have to do this on your own. Good luck. Out."

Great, just great. Alone, in a terrority filled with militia, and… huge German Shepherds. How the hell the locals were able to rear German Shepherds in that kind of place, he did not know, but what he did now, was that he was in deep trouble. Apart from those pesky dogs, their handlers, armed with various weapons were closing in around him.

And just then, just as he started of thinking of panicking, they fell dead, one by one. "I am going to have to jump off Kiyomizu Temple for your luck next festival season, Roach," Ryuka said to him, with somewhat of a sly smile as she waved at him from one of the rooftops high above him. "Honestly, you must have enraged the Gods a great deal in your past life."

"Well, thanks for saving mine!" he thanked her, and continued to push through. Roach was an eager soldier; he would do whatever it took to ensure the safe completion of the mission, even if he was a little… clumsily unlucky. Guided by the voices of his comrades, he trudged through the favela, hot on Rojas' trail.

"Go get them tiger," Ryuka encouraged, whilst she sniped off a man with an Afro who was about to shoot Ghost from behind him. This was where she had belonged, right in the field, the world around them in shambles, and with a trusty sniper rifle in her hands. This time, it was an M14 EBR, one of her favorites. That, and her katana, which never left her side. "Guys, you would be without sniper cover for about thirty seconds. I've got company," she muttered when a few of the militia had caught sight of her, and started climbing up onto her roof.

The moment she had unsheathed her katana, the light of the sun captured in the sharp cutting edge, was the moment that they had regretted seeing at all. Swift-accurate strokes, in fluid motion, killed them one after the other. And upon seeing more that were coming, she used all her strength to pound her katana upon the roof's surface, sending clumps of concrete debris flying towards the incoming men, knocking them off, with the sheer use of her Ki.

"Reddie, get off the roof now! We need you to corner Rojas from your side!" Ghost shouted, words that she immediately acknowledged and obeyed. Spotting an escape ladder on the face of the building that Ghost had indicated, Ryuka leapt off the roof she was on, and grabbed the spokes of the ladder at the perfect moment. A single second more and she would have plummeted to her death, but then again, she was rather…experienced, with that kind of thing.

She propelled herself up, and smashed the window with the butt of her M4A1, just where MacTavish was. They could see from the window outside that Rojas was scaling the wall, ready to escape to the ladder that she had entered the building from. They treaded carefully, but somehow, Rojas seemed to have found them, and quickened his pace.

"He's gonna get away!" Ghost shouted, almost in utter desperation. However, MacTavish begged to differ.

"No, he's not!" the Captain said, and rammed through the nearest window. At that precise time, he was able to get Rojas as well, and as they both fell, he pinned the arms dealer down, and hitting the car below them. The most Rojas had suffered, was a fractured shoulder. "This is Bravo Six, we have got the package… I repeat, we have got the package."

However, there was no answer. "Papa Dragon, come in, Papa Dragon!" Ryuka commed Shepherd, but there was no response.

"Bullocks, the skies are clear… send the chopper now!" Ghost exclaimed as well, but still, there was nothing.


	7. Part 1: The Hornet's Nest

"I can't get anyone on the horn," Ghost said to MacTavish after they had interrogated Rojas. This, was not a good situation. Not even the vast global network that Ryuka's maternal family had could get them out of a spot that tight. It seemed that while they had been hunting down Rojas, the United States of America had been attack by the Russians in Virginia, extremely close to the Pentagon. Shepherd, their commanding officer had rushed back to his own country to help with anything that he could, leaving them to face the wrath of the Brazilian militia alone.

MacTavish crossed his arms, and furrowed his brows. "The Russians must have copied the ACS module," he said. "Got a lock to every key in America." At those words, he felt Ryuka's hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him, a reassuring smile, and he nodded. It was not his fault that the Russians were able to get to the information within the ACS module before he and Roach had been able to steal it back, but it was his job to get the team out alive.

"And they're killing a thousand Americans for every dead citizen in Moscow," Ghost added. "Even Reddie's family can't help… Looks like we're all out of friends." Their list of allies was indeed growing thin, and they would be sitting ducks if they did not move soon.

"I know a guy," MacTavish said all of a sudden, breaking their concentration on the situation they are in with the lightest glimmer of hope. "Let's find a payphone… do they still exist?"

Ryuka knew who MacTavish was talking about. It was the Loyalist codename "Nikolai", and who was now a transport contractor for the 141. The man had helped them out of several tight spots, and definitely knew MacTavish long enough to even ask how many illegitimate children he had with her during one particularly difficult extraction and got away scot-free.

And luckily enough, they did find a payphone. Their only hope now was that Nikolai had not done anything to his number at all. "Soap, my friend, how is the mistress?" Nikolai asked MacTavish the moment he knew that it was him speaking.

"Nikolai, we're in deep shite here, this is not the time!" MacTavish roared. He could tolerate the jokes, but not a time like this. "We're in favela Rochina with the militia at our tails. We need immediate exfil!"

Nikolai chuckled. "Will do my friend," he replied. "You are very lucky that I am on vacation here. Shepherd pays me by the operation anyways."

And thus, the Task Force 141 began to mobilize out of that god-forsaken place, along with Ryuka's M14 EBR, seeing that they would need it any more. "Captain, we cannot linger here," Ryuka told MacTavish, black eyes looking towards the skies for any signs of aircraft that could be Nikolai's.

"All we got outta Rojas is that the only guy Makarov hates worse than Americans is locked up in a gulag," Ghost said, when the team was getting ready to move out, catching a few more breaths before their great escape.

Not being able to negate that one fact, MacTavish nodded. "It's all we got," he said, running a hand through his Mohawk. "If this con's the bait to catch that psychopath, let's hang him from a tree." And just as he had uttered those words, MacTavish paused. Somehow, he felt it in his gut that he would one day regret what he had just said.

Ghost and Ryuka, on the other hand, were worried that they would not have those three minutes. "Sir, the militia's closing in," Ghost reported, "Almost 200 of them, front and back!"

"We're gonna have to fight our way to the LZ… Let's go!"

Ryuka was already heading the team up front, taking a formation that had come as naturally to them as they had to breathe in oxygen and not other gases. "What about Rojas?" Ghost enquired further. The man was held onto the wall by chains and cables, on the verge of death. It was only then did they realize that he knew next to nothing about Makarov's operations, other than what he had told them, which had been overheard…

"The streets'll take care of him," MacTavish replied, rather coolly, and made his way to the front. "Nikolai," he commed their friendly Russian transporter, "We're at the top level of the favela surrounded by militia! Bring the chopper to the market, do you copy? Over!"

"Okay my friend," Nikolai answered. "I am on my way!"

* * *

It was a scenario that all of them had been familiar with, a scenario that they had all known. In fact, there would be times when there more people after their "sorry, God-forsaken asses," as Roach had so aptly put it. However, this time, extraction had been particularly difficult, because there was no doubt that the militia had known that they were not just paramilitary contractors as they appeared to be, but international elites. It was simple, really. If they could have found information regarding the Underworld, the favor could be easily returned.

"Everyone get ready," MacTavish ordered. "Lock and load!"

"We are way ahead of you, sir," Ryuka commented, taking cover behind a short wall. At those times, her training as a devout descendant of the samurai was practically useless. They were outnumbered, and outgunned, and she would be killed the moment she unsheathed her katana, for sure. Hence, it remained there in its saya (sheath), unmoved in the field of battle.

"Let's do this!" Ghost added, increasing the overall morale. They had survived worse spots that this, and they would surely do the same, this time around. "Tangos at the ground level dead ahead!" he reported. As he had stated before, they were completely surrounded.

More and more men came filing in from the south, from the market that they were supposed to be heading to, and it was not a good sign at all, with one or two technicals as well. "Just how many people are after us?" Roach complained. "It's not like we owe them any money!"

His words actually made Ryuka chuckle. "It does not matter, Roach," she told the former-then-returned-to-current-FNG. "We are here, and we are worth more than they can ever make pushing drugs and guns in ten lifetimes." Her black eyes, they could see more than just tangos, but also several RPGs on the rooftops. "Any single cartel boss knows this, and they would not pass up on the opportunity to capture even one of us."

Roach gulped, and pushed forwards. "Reddie love, you don't have to scare the kid," Ghost said, coming beside her. She could tell that he was smiling behind that balaclava of his. She had known him long enough to know that. "He almost pissed his pants."

"Well, Ghostie," Ryuka replied. "The truth is sometimes very hard to stomach." They shared a quick bout of laughter as they raced up a rather steep hill. That, was when she spotted a golden opportunity. There were a few cars that the militia used for cover, and, as if they had some form of divine help, there were a few barrels of fuel situated right between them. "You two, move those barrels to the center," she said to two of their teammates. "I will cover you."

They nodded, and executed the task that she had given them. "Reddie, what the hell are you doing?" MacTavish asked her, but understood immediately what she had right in her head. "Everybody stand back!" The warning came at the right time, and all of them began to step back. Luckily for them, the militia seemed to be ignorant of Ryuka's wild idea.

"Firing at three… two… one…" Ryuka counted down, and pulled the trigger of her M4A1. The barrels of oil immediately exploded, charring more than just the vehicles, but also about twenty people. As the stench of charred flesh filled the air, the members of the Task Force 141 moved into the alleyways that led to the entrance to the market.

* * *

"Reddie, I wanted those RPGs down thee seconds ago!" MacTavish instructed, and Ryuka took them out accordingly, while Roach threw a grenade at yet another technical, which landed right beside the mini-gun. After yet another explosion, and the areas a little clearer, they pushed through the market, finding a few more tangos, and a football (or soccer ball) or two. "There's Nikolai's Pave Low!" MacTavish said when a helicopter could clearly be seen flying towards them. He would never mistake this Pave Low for another. "Let's go!" he shouted to his teammates, and commed Nikolai. "Nikolai, ETA 20 seconds, be ready for immediate dustoff."

However, Nikolai had other views on that matter. "That may not be fast enough," he said, "I see more militia closing in on the market…" They could not see it from where they were, but he could. "It's too hot, we will not survive this landing."

"Captain, change the venue," Ryuka told MacTavish, focusing on taking out the militia after saying those words. He knew that she was right, and as prone as she was to unnecessary shows of heroics, this was not the time for anything that would endanger their lives any more than the danger they were in.

"Nikolai, wave off, wave off!" MacTavish said. "We'll meet you at the secondary LZ instead go!" Thank God for extremely meticulous planning.

"Very well, I will meet you there… Good luck!"

* * *

Rooftops were not Roach's thing. Having trouble on solid ground with his own two feet already, it did not help being at this altitude. He was not Ryuka, who was as nimble as an acrobat, nor was he anyone as strong as MacTavish. A miscalculated gust of wind could have blown him completely off course without any difficulty at all.

"My friend," Nikolai teased. "From up here, it looks as if the whole village is trying to kill you!"

"Tell me something I don't know!" MacTavish replied. "Just get ready to pick us up!"

"We're running out of rooftop!" Ghost warned, while Ryuka doubled back, and vaulted across a gap, while MacTavish and Ghost just leapt high into the air, almost narrowly missing the edge. One by one, they all made it across, and Roach, seeing how well his teammates did, seemed to have gained some confidence.

Imitating Ryuka, he took a few steps back, and partook in the literal leap of faith. He made it, barely, but slipped as he was about to pull himself up, and fell. "Roach!" he heard MacTavish and Ryuka call his name when he blacked out, but regained consciousness rather quickly.

"Roach, we can see them from the chopper," Ghost told him. "They're coming for you, dozens of 'em!"

"There is no time to waste, Roach, move!" Ryuka added.

"There's to many of them, get the hell out of there and find a way to the rooftops! Run for it!" MacTavish ordered, and Roach did not anyone to tell him twice. He got up as fast as he could, and started to find another way, the militia's guns all aimed and firing towards him. A left turn, and a right later, he heard MacTavish's voice once again. "Roach, I see you, jump down to the rooftops and meet us south of your position!"

Roach did what as he was told, while Nikolai told them that he was low on gas. He could see it, the Pave Low, with his teammates all waiting for him at the doors. "You can do it, kid!" Ryuka shouted, and Roach strengthened his resolve as Nikolai moved the Pave Low closer to where he was. And this time, they were all lucky that Roach did not miss. He caught the ladder, and held onto it with dear life.

"Nikolai, we've got him," MacTavish told Nikolai. "Get us out of here."

"Where to, my friend?" the Russian asked, and to that, MacTavish told him to get them back to the sub. It was a long day indeed, and they would need the rest that would come later. He could feel it that there would be no stopping the chain of missions that would follow, now that total war was happening between Russia and America.

* * *

HAN: Whew, finally, the Hornet's Nest is over. I absolutely detest to write this part. There's nothing here but just running and shooting. ^.^ However, it's one of my favorite levels to play. Thanks to ecto1B's review and her shoutout at her fic, the Ghost Who Haunted Me (check it out!)! Whew. We're about a quarter of the way down, WOOOHOOO! ^.^

However, there are some issues that a few readers who had put up that I must address. I do know indeed that my characterization is severely lacking. Almost every Modern Warfare 2 OC that I put on the table (short of Brownie, I think, she's a cat!) that I put across the table is being labeled as a Mary Sue. I will not make any excuses for Ryuka (and Anya/Maria Allen from "Beautiful"), I do acknowledge that she is rather much of a Mary Sue. However, I would like to think that they are the lesser parts of a greater evil. Currently where I am, I would rather focus more on technique. I am writing Modern Warfare fanfiction, because, like my readers will know, I came from a background of writing epic-scale battles, and hand to hand combat (ie, Star Wars, Blood+, Rurouni Kenshin, Saiyuki and the Lord of the Rings). I have next to no experience in "modern" settings when combat is to be concerned. I would rather these details be completely mastered first, before I move on to other aspects of a story.

I do know that it is rather cruel of me to enforce these "experiments" upon all of you. But let me ask you this. If my OCs had just popped out there and are able to fight at the instant they were attacked with no experience at all (except for ecto's Queen, of course, that is a different thing altogether), Ryuka and Anya would be even worse OCs to speak of, or have Makarov or Soap save them at the nick of time when they're batting their eyelashes at bullet/enemies. And yes, black eyes are common here in Asia. Ryuka, my dear "C", is Japanese-American. There would be no surprise at all if she did have black eyes. And "sapphire" is just another way of saying a deep blue, if there is anyone who wishes to pick it with me.

Oh, and for those of you who are annoyed at Ryuka being able to "use her katana faster than a bullet", you lovely beings clearly do not have a sense of fantasy. This is Modern Warfare, we are talking about, where everything is like a Hollywood movie. Not only that, such feats are commonplace in anime and movies, so what wrong have I committed, in placing a little "fun" into such fics (I have told a reader once that I write my stories like how I would view a movie, hence, the catsuits that my OCs have, where most of the bad-ass ladies are seen with them, i.e: Selena (Underworld), Lara Croft (Tomb Raider and the Cradle of Life), and Black Widow (Iron Man II), as well as the over-exaggerated feats of human ability)?

I have asked you to read and to review this fic. And I do not begrudge you if they turn out to be negative. But if you would take this opportunity to tear my works apart over and over again, in whatever that I endeavor, just for the fun of it. There are other fanfics out there to do so. Please do not come to mine. Try LOTR and Harry Potter, why don't you?

* * *

PS: I have come up with a playlist for this fic:

Ryuka X Soap: Closer to the Edge by 30 Seconds to Mars, Secrets by One Republic

Ryuka X Makarov: A Beautiful Lie by 30 Seconds to Mars

Task Force 141 theme: Waiting for the End by Linkin Park

I'll keep you posted if I have more!


	8. Part 1: The Guilt of the Survivor

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Submarine base – Location classified

* * *

There was something wrong with MacTavish's Ki… From being alike wildfire, strong and ever-present, it seemed to be flickering, and was getting more and more erratic. She knew that something was wrong, and got off her bed, heading towards his quarters, which was next to hers. Like all "couples", she had the spare keys to every single dwelling that he had been housed in that came into her knowledge, and she used it to its full potential.

When she opened the door, she could see MacTavish writhing in his bed, cold sweat filling his brow. Her first response was to kneel by his bedside and hold his hand in hers, but that alone had not been enough to calm him. He was in a deep state of dreaming, and would have to wake up according to his own accord.

Nightmares like these, they were commonplace for every single person of their station, and even she was not exempt from them. They were soldiers, used to death, used to seeing death, and used to cause death. However, this did not mean that death affects them not. It did strange things to people, made strong warriors weak, at times, but at others, it increases the wrath, and the strength of the weak. Those who had seen what they had seen, would at times wish for death, even if they did not fear it.

It was one of those times that MacTavish had been experiencing. All Ryuka could do, was to be by his side, and try to alleviate his pain. "John… wake up…" she whispered into his ear as he threw his head left and right before she kissed his brow. Nothing. "Oi, ahou!" she shouted, balling her fist and driving it right to his shoulder.

* * *

_He was seeing it all over again. That day in the Altai Mountains. It had been his sixth day in the British SAS, but it seemed like he had been there, with his team, for almost an eternity. But now, all that remained were only Price, his captain, Gaz, and Griggs. They had tracked Imran Zakhaev right into those mountains, where he had a nuclear facility, and they had foiled his plans to obliterate the East Coast of the United States, which could have caused 4.2 million casualties, and now, the leader and chairman of the Ultranationalists was out for blood. _

_The Ultranationalists had cornered them, they had partially destroyed the bridge they were currently on. Griggs, he had pulled him out of the line of fire, but was shot instead. There was nothing that he could have done. Weakened, and injured, there was nothing that he could have done to salvage the situation. _

_Zakhaev himself had shot down Gaz. He would personally execute those who had spilt the blood of his son. They had heard a news broadcast that the world had been told that Viktor had died in a "car crash", such a crass and false move… But for the safety of the world, for the future notion of peace, it had to be done. _

"_John!" he heard Ryuka's voice. He knew that this was not real. He had only known Ryuka after the Russian Civil War… But still, seeing her there, did not do anything to lessen the fear that he had felt in his heart. She was being held by the two men beside Zakhaev, bound, injured, and wounded… She was in no condition to fight. _

"_Soap…" there was a voice calling him. A voice that he had not heard in a long, long time. Price, it was Price. The Captain slid is M1911 to him, knowing that he was the only one who was fit enough to do the deed. He had to kill Zakhaev then and there. But, Zakhaev too, raised his pistol, which he had held with the lone arm that he had._

_Two gunshots were heard, but he felt no more pain than he already was in. Blood was evident, but it was not his… He looked around him, and found Price and Ryuka, both dead…

* * *

_

"No!" MacTavish shouted, bolting up from the bed he was in. In an instant, he felt a pair of smaller, lithe arms around his torso. It was Ryuka. He knew the texture of her skin, the feel of her hair against his own. She was silent, only holding him from behind him, her head, rested upon his back. Her heart, he could feel it beating as fast as his… Wait, wasn't she back in her quarters? What was she doing here?

"I felt your Ki," she explained, as if she could read his mind. "John, I was so worried…" Subconsciously, he put his hands upon hers, knowing that he needed that contact more than she did. They remained like that for a long, long while. And when MacTavish seemed to have calmed somewhat, she turned towards him and asked, "John, what have you seen?"

In all their years with one another, MacTavish had rarely told her about the last day of the Russian Civil War. It was something that had been the shadow of his existence, a cloud of memories that he had never acknowledged openly, keeping it only within the dark vestiges of his mind. He had always been afraid to lose everything that he had now, like how he had lost his own team that fateful day. And now, he had another care as well. One of his Lieutenants, who was facing him now, who was cupping his face in her hands, concern written so clearly upon her beautiful features, was the one that he had opened his heart to… Except for this…

Oh, she knew that he was the one that killed Imran Zakhaev, it was laid out in the open. But she did not know the details of it… She knew that it plagued him, but she did not press the matter. "You have seen Zakhaev, and Uncle Price, have you not?" she asked him.

Wait a minute… Uncle Price?

"You knew Price?" MacTavish asked her, his blue eyes widened. She had never mentioned it at all.

"My father, Shepherd and Uncle Price met one another, and worked together in the Gulf War," Ryuka explained. "Well, my father was more of an intermediary. The two of them are among his greatest friends, even if Shepherd's a bit of a radical." It had been the polite way of saying that her father trusted Price more than he did Shepherd, and it was the same case with Price as well. "He called me, before you went to the Bering Sea… the funny thing was, he was looking at someone's files… He told me that since I'm old enough to marry, he had found someone for me… Someone named 'Soap'… Life is ironic, is it not?"

MacTavish lifted her chin with his finger and thumb, and looked into her black eyes. He did not say anything, but he kissed her, with every fiber of his being. He had thought that it was just something between them, that they had been genuinely attracted to one another, with no other strings that tied them to one another. But now… it was different. He knew that Price could have been joking with Ryuka that day, he remembered clearly, that Price had been on the phone before he even spoke to him. But never in his mind, could he have imagined that Price was talking to Ryuka.

"John…" she murmured when the kiss broke. "Uncle Price is like a father to me," she told him. "And yes, he speaks several languages. He's the one who nicknamed my sister and me 'Kurotatsu' and 'Koutatsu'; they translate into 'Black Dragon' and…"

"Red Dragon," MacTavish finished the sentence for her. "So, your sister has black hair?" he asked her, trying to get into Price's train of thought. Ryuka smiled, and nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, after another pause. "I couldn't…"

Ryuka put a finger on his lips, and shook her head. "What was in the past belongs no longer to us," she said, placing her fingers around his neck gently. "You did what you could, John, it is all that mattered." Survivor's guilt had been a great thing to deal with. She and her sister had discovered that nuclear warhead that Khaled al-Asad had deployed in the Middle East, but they were still unable to save the 30,000 Marines that had been killed by the explosion. She had been in therapy for a full year, right until she had joined the Task Force 141… "If Uncle Price knows how great a Captain you are, John, he will be proud of you, no matter where he is… And I am saying this, not because I love you…"

It had been five years. Five years since either of them had heard of Price, in any manner. "Thanks," he thanked her, pushing back a lock of her hair behind her ear. This woman, there was no more that he could love her… She appeared to be headstrong, her own woman, but she was wise despite her years, and with his experience with the Daughters of the Dragon from the mission in Kyoto, he knew that it ran in the family.

He took her hand, kissed it, and pulled her into his arms. "I love you too," he whispered into her ear. He loved her, not because of the force of circumstance, that she had been the only field-woman in the Task Force 141, and acted as an intermediary between the rest of the boys and himself; not because the copious amounts of "flings" between them had risen to genuine feelings, but because whenever she was with him, his mind was at peace. Her words, her scent, her eyes, her warrior's body, all of her dominated each of his senses, and he could no longer see the curses of a soldier's life. He did not know why she returned her heart to him, but he knew that even if the World would force them apart, he would never let her go.

Ryuka smiled, and made him lay back on the bed. Kissing his forehead, and the tip of his nose, she said, "Sleep, John, it's been a long day." They were still not out of Brazilian waters, and Shepherd was still far from them. Whether or not they would be on a mission, was still an unknown variable… They needed enough rest to be prepared.

As she turned to leave, MacTavish caught her by her wrist, and pulled her back towards him. "Stay with me," he said to her, snaking a hand beneath her tank top to caress her flat abdomen. He could feel her relax against him, after the initial shock of his sudden actions. He kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

"Are you not afraid that the others might see us?" she asked him coyly, tracing light circles on his chest with her finger. He silenced her with yet another kiss, one that lasted for quite some time. Tracing her red lips with his tongue, MacTavish ran his fingers through her red hair, and held her closer to him, so that every single curve of her body was molded into his. She had fit so perfectly in his arms, and he marveled at that fact.

"As you Americans say it," he replied, opening his eyes again, "Screw them." Alright, that was a hasty generalization, but he had to admit, in all ways, Ryuka was no angel. A dubiously-named protocol that she had formulated came to mind, and he had to stop from grinning whenever he heard it.

MacTavish waited for her smart comeback in vain. She was already sound asleep, her chest moving up and down in a constant rhythm as she slept. Well, there was only one thing to do now, and that was to join her. They might not share the same dreams, but at least, for that night, the nightmares that haunted him would not come to haunt him again.

* * *

HAN: Thanks to ecto1B, Carovinee and WHS72 for the kind reviews! Finally, some good, clean fluff between Soap and Ryuka. It seems that Price is a freakin' matchmaker ^.^ More reason to love the guy!


	9. Part 1: The Only Easy Day was Yesterday

Something did not seem right to MacTavish. They had been taking a different course, and were going further and further away from the United States of America, which had been invaded by the Russian Spetsnaz. "Seems like we're headed the wrong direction, sir," he said to MacTavish. "Shouldn't we be coming back to the fight?"

That, actually, had not been a wise question. The Task Force 141 consisted of special operations combatants, most of them were rarely seen on the frontlines, moreover, it would be a total waste of manpower if they were deployed right in the front. Shepherd looked at the Captain, and noted his words. MacTavish was not a dim-witted fellow at all, no. That question that he had just posed was to ease the concerns of the Americans around them. On a more… personal level, Ryuka had been one of them. "Plenty of fight to go around, MacTavish," he told the Captain. "Glad you made it outta South America… You're meeting up with the 6th Fleet, leadin' the counterstrike."

As predicted, the word "counterstrike" lightened up the sour expressions all across the rooms. "And so it seems that the information that we have is accurate?" Ryuka asked Shepherd, who nodded as a reply. "And who is he?"

"Prisoner 627," Shepherd said. "We believe that's who Makarov's got the mad-on for, but we can't get to him…" Images of oilrigs came to the screen. The territories off the east coast of Russia, near Petropavlosk, were rich with petroleum. Ryuka, who was operating the software, mentioned the various capacities of the oilrigs, which confused MacTavish and the others even more, software operator included.

"Vikhorevka 36, oilrig," Ryuka read the description of the oilrig. "Annual capacity: 1000 barrels. Oil is often exported to China, Japan and South Korea, the rest is used domestically. It's one of the three oilrigs off the coast…"

"Oilrigs, sir?" MacTavish asked, placing a hand up to silently apologize for interrupting Ryuka. This was a strange indeed, why the hell were they going after oilrigs?

Shepherd smirked. "Russians are using them as SAM sites," he explained. "Oil workers are human shields, so we can't just blow them up wholesale, and this one is the least defended." Ah, the sudden feel of enlightenment. Ryuka rolled her eyes. This man just loved to torture them by bringing them around and around in circles. If he had not been her superior, she would have kicked him right in the shin and be done with it. "Boys… and girl, I know I'm sending you into the meat grinder in this one…"

As always, MacTavish spoke for the team. "They're defending it, so it means we want it," he said. "Especially if it gets us to 627."

* * *

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

U.S.S. Chicago – TF 141-US Navy SEAL Joint Task Force

* * *

Fish… Ryuka hated fish, not when they were so close to her, alive, and swimming around. She could handle the cold, mid-winter seawater, she could handle being in an enclosed space before the SDV that she, Roach and a couple of Navy SEALs, and she could handle the dark of the early morning, but she absolutely abhorred fish swimming around her. She could not remember since when she had this hatred of fish, but she remembered why: her cousins had brought her to a snorkeling vacation, years ago, at East Malaysia, and purposely throw bread all over the place, causing the fishes to swarm all around her. She had not been snorkeling ever since then.

"Reddie, you okay?" Roach asked her when he saw her looking around rather nervously. There was a school of fish near them, and Ryuka cringed, rather obviously.

"I am fine, kid," Ryuka replied, shutting her eyes as she gripped the handle of the SDV tightly. "I am just waiting for those bastards to end up in a tank in a Chinese restaurant, waiting to be chosen and deep-fried alive."

Roach tried hard not to laugh. It was rare that Ryuka showed any fear, well, not yet, but her mannerisms towards the surrounding fish was just too good to pass off. Soon, their SDV was deployed from the submarine, and they had to be absolutely silent, passing right through the school of fish. Roach made a mental note to stay away from Ryuka was best he could during the mission.

Not long after, they passed another submarine, the U.S.S. Dallas, of similar specification and size with the Chicago. One of the people on Team Two from the Dallas gave a thumbs up to them, and the guy in front of Roach responded. A few minutes later, they reach the legs of the oilrig, and began to surface one by one.

The two guards on the platform could not see them, not in that kind of light, not with their black gear. "Let's take them out together," MacTavish said to Roach, who complied immediately. They dragged the guards underwater, and stabbed them, leaving their bodies to float to wherever the sea would carry them before the Navy SEALs helped them up. The others, they were getting their flippers off, and arming themselves.

"Ready to move, Captain," Ryuka said after thanking a SEAL for helping her to retrieve her katana, happy that she was far, far away from any swimming fish for the time being. MacTavish nodded, and headed up the stairway.

"Two hostiles down in section One-Alpha," he said, "Moving up to section Two." They soon entered a second platform, strewn with various machinery and equipment. The smell of petroleum was strong in the air, and there were a few individuals who were starting to show signs of distaste. "Keep it tight people," he instructed. "Ready weapons, move up."

There was a man on the rail, probably another guard. "Got a visual by the railing," Ghost said, and MacTavish told him that they were free to engage, but only with suppressed weapons. It was Ryuka's cue. Taking a throwing-knife from her pouch, she aimed, and hit the guard right in the heart, causing the man to swagger a little, and fall into the sea. "We're clear, nice work, Reddie."

"Civilian hostages at your position watch your fire," the sub commander warned them. There was no need to guess where they were. That platform had only one room, and it had been awfully quiet. Breaching charges were planted at the several doors which took the Russians by surprise. Once the doors had been blasted open, bullets were sent flying. One of them was even smart enough to test them. The Russian shouted, pressing a pistol to one of the hostage's head. But MacTavish had been quick enough to send a bullet through _his_ head before he could do anything.

"We're clear," MacTavish said, "Hostages secured in section Two-Echo."

The sub commander sounded pleased. "Roger that, Hotel Six," he said, "Team 2 will secure and evac, countinue your search topside."

* * *

Roach had learned that whenever Ryuka muttered something in Japanese in the field, it could not be used in polite conversation. The enemy helicopter that had been circling the platform level they were on had nearly shot her leg with its guns, and she had let out a string of what sounded like curses right then and there as she ducked for cover. "Anou kuso yaro…" she muttered beneath her breath, which Roach knew, translated into _that bastard_.

"Cool it, Reddie," MacTavish warned. "That Little Bird is onto us." Slowly, they maneuvered themselves away from the Little Bird, and proceeded to move onto another hostage-filled room, which they had cleared rapidly. However, there was a little problem. The radio in the room started to burst alive, and Ryuka translated it. The control center had discovered that the personnel on the lower levels were all gone, and they would be sending a few men up to help with the situation. "Set up for Plan B. Get some C4 on those bodies, go."

(Such a motion was known as Plan B, but, when they had to intentionally blow things up when they were cornered by the enemy, it was named, rather hilariously, Protocol Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo. MacTavish had mistakenly called it Plan B in Kazakhstan.)

They found elevated positions to conceal themselves in, with Roach handling the detonator. Their plan was to wait for the Russians to come and find the bodies, and then, they'll ambush them, while blasting a few into oblivion. There was no room for error, no room for any single mistake. Roach had to detonate the C4 at the exact moment, or the Russians would find out their hiding places.

"There's the patrol," MacTavish said, "Hold your fire until they're closer… Steady… Steady…" Loud speech could be heard from the room… The Russians had already discovered the bodies. It was time to act. "Plan B, do it." Roach detonated the C4, and following the explosion, and alarm sounded. "Control, this is Hotel Six, our cover is blown!"

"Copy that," the sub commander replied. "Copy that, intel still indicicates hostages and possible explosives on the top deck. Your team needs to secure that location before we can send in reinforcements to handle the SAM sites, over."

* * *

Up a flight of stairs, and onto the top deck. They were met with more enemies, and a enemy helo as well, which Roach had heroically destroyed by launching a grenade at it with his M203. "Nice shot, Roach," Ghost praised, which made the kid blush a little. Taking separate routes, they made their way to the uppermost deck. MacTavish and Ryuka above, and Ghost below.

"Smokescreen," Ghost said, when their enemies started to pop smoke all over the place.

"Thank God for thermal optics," Ryuka commented, indicating that she was going into the smoke. It was a fluke, she had mistakenly grabbed a thermal sight for the Scar-H that she had brought with her instead for a red-dot one, but in turned out to be of use in the end. "This is Hotel Five Bravo, enemies in smokescreen have been neutralized."

The sub commander acknowledged her notification, but had something to add as well. "Be advised, hostages have been confirmed at your location along with possible explosives, over." With that information in mind, MacTavish told them all to check their fire. There was no telling what was held behind those doors.

"Get a frame charge on the door," MacTavish said. "We'll hit the room from both sides." He did not need anyone to tell him that this mission, like countless others, would be a success. He had the Navy SEALs to thank for, of course, and he was sure that the Task Force 141 may see possible future recruits from their performance that day.

* * *

"Look at that sunrise," Ryuka said as they prepared to get on the Little Bird that would bring them to the Gulag near them. In the horizon, the sun was half-way rising over the sea, dying the entire place red, gold, and orange. "It is beautiful, is it not?"

MacTavish nodded. As the others were busy moving in and out of the four Little Birds, he pulled her head closer to his for a quick kiss, and said, "I know something more beautiful at this point of time." Ryuka chuckled, and swatted his arm. Her hair, it glinted like the very same color the sun currently was, while the first light of dawn made it look as if it burned like true fire.

"Flattery does not become you, Captain," she replied, "But it is welcome, at times." Ryuka was a woman who knew her way around men, the kind of girl who was "one of the guys". It was rare that any male would say those words to her (due to some strange male concept that they would not utter any single compliment to a woman that was considered a "bro, and not a "ho"), except for MacTavish, when he saw it fit. "But I think that you're making a few SEALs uneasy, MacTavish," she whispered into his ear, both of them smiling together.

"Well, too bad," he said. The side they were on was the furthest away from the others, facing the horizon directly. Thus, they had time for another kiss, which lasted until Ryuka sensed Roach fast approaching them. The FNG had been in the Task Force 141 long enough to know which "open secret" was real, and which was not, and he was rather lucky, that he did not walk in on them.

* * *

HAN: Heh... heh... heh... I have a question for all of you. What reaction would Price have if he found out about Soap and Ryuka? ^.^


	10. Part 1: The Gulag

"_Jiji… Jiji! Look what I can do?" little Ryuka said to the man smoking a cigar with her father. Her black eyes, they were filled with a sort of childish joy only graced by progress. There was a child-sized katana in her hands, one that had been a family heirloom. _

"_Oh, what you can do?" the man asked her. Her mother took it as a cue, and set up a wooden training dummy at about twenty feet away from them. "Show me, Reddie. Perhaps this old man can see how a modern samurai fights." The three adults smiled at one another while Ryuka got into her stance. _

_The attack had been swift, an aerial move, structured to destroy the target from the shoulder. Ryuka completely disintegrated the dummy perfectly. "She had been practicing for two months on this one. And she's got it," her father said proudly. _

"_That's a good girl," the man said. "One day, you'll be a great warrior like your parents, and you'll change the world…"_

_Her expression brightened. "You really think so?" she asked him, and he picked her up, carrying her and placing her on top of his shoulders. "Jiji…"_

_Chuckling, the man shook his head. "So impatient…" he said to himself. "You will, sweetheart, I promise you…"_

"_I love you, Uncle Price!"

* * *

_

That was when she was six years old. She had just mastered the Dragon's Hammer, the technique that she had used countless times, with only one failure: Vladimir Makarov… She had been given her katana when she was sixteen, when she had fully mastered every single sword-stroke of her family's martial arts style. The Algrens were descended from the Daughters of the Dragon, when a Daughter of the Dragon had been sent to America as a peace-offering between Meiji Japan and America during the reign of President Ulysses S. Grant. Together, they had renewed the Line of Dragons, and created a new line of warriors in the New World. Their daughter returned to Japan to continue their line, while their son, continued the progeny of the Algrens.

She and her sister were the first children in two hundred years, to be born of the Algrens, and the Line of Dragons. And Price had been the one who had encouraged them to take the path of the sword again, well, not as literally as Ryuka had endeavored. When both sisters had entered the UN-USSOCOM-Japan military program, he had given them callsigns, for the color of their hair: Kurotatsu, "Black Dragon (shortened to Blackie)" and Koutatsu, "Red Dragon (shortened to Reddie)".

Between his missions with the SAS, Price would often spend time with her family. He had none of his own, and he had looked upon Mr. Algren's daughters as his own, and when he was not in Kyoto, he would call them, sometimes frequently.

* * *

"_Really, the TSG?" Price asked Ryuka, now 20 years old. She was still young, but had already graduated from the military program that she and her sister had enrolled themselves in. Upon graduation, she was absorbed into the Tokushu Sakusen Gun or the Japanese Special Forces Group, and was sent to the United States as a "special correspondent on indefinite loan". "You've done both your old men proud."_

"_Jiji, do you know where are we now?" Ryuka asked him, with much enthusiasm. Her father was beside her, and he shook his head. They were not supposed to reveal the nature of their missions to others, not even to those closest to them. _

"_Wherever you are, you must be doing great," he told her. "I must say the same myself, just that we have a new FNG, too. And he's just a few years older than you are."_

_Ryuka rolled her eyes. "Uncle Price, even if you marry me off, you won't get the bride price," she told him. "My parents will."_

_Price smiled. She could tell from his voice. "I'll most probably get a third. He has a strange name though… Soap… Anyways, I'll see you around sweetheart. Good luck on your mission."

* * *

_

It had been five years ago, five years ago since that phone call. If MacTavish had been entitled to his nightmares that recalled Price, she could have her own memories. "Reddie?" MacTavish asked her when he saw her furrowed brow.

"I'm alright," she told him. "Just… memories…" Something told her, that there was something more to the memories that had surfaced, and MacTavish's nightmares. They could not have happened almost one another, to two different people. The two of them had been connected to the same person, the same benefactor, guide and mentor… She just hoped…

The flight to the Gulag took about two hours, and there had been time for her to get lost in her thoughts, and even some time to sleep. Resting her head on MacTavish's shoulder, her hand in his, she slept for a good half an hour, recharging her proverbial batteries. All of them did.

* * *

"Sixth Fleet's mopping up," MacTavish said, briefing on them on the second phase of the mission. "Time to move in. Long history, this building… Not much of it pretty, it Started out as a castle with an actual dungeon, built to withstand any siege. Building survived every brutal winter, the occupants… they weren't so lucky. The Monastery didn't survive the Purges. Over the last century, it's played host to everyone the Government didn't want but couldn't kill. Place is filled with living casualties of the last war… which… (pfft) I swear I thought we'd won. But I suppose that it's all a day at the races, you back the losing horse, and this is where you end up. 627 is the piece of meat that Makarov wants, so let's cut him loose."

It was just like MacTavish, utterly textbook of his performance: Always well-prepared, always knowledgeable on every single variable, for the safety of his team, for the success of the mission. Those that followed him, would have just taken their lives if he would ask them to, and he had learnt it all from the master himself.

The sun was already above the horizon, the seas, seemingly peaceful. But behind the four Little Birds, were little dots of white, grey and black, from a bird's eye view. Upon closer inspection on a lower altitude, one could see that those dots, were actually ships, air-carriers and submarines. The American Navy was in Petropavlosk to exact the revenge of a nation whose might had always been known.

"Thirty seconds," MacTavish said. They would arrive in thirty seconds. One of the four Little Birds had guns, and it opened the way for the, taking out the watch tower closest to them. Of course, the entire place was on high alert, but at those times, a little shock and awe was that they had needed. One by one, the battlements of the former castle was continuously filled by personnel. Snipers got ready, and so did their counterparts that handled AT-4s. These men, there was no doubt, that they were Makarov's men, judging by the strange mix of weapons that they were using. "All snipers, this is MacTavish, standby to engage," the Captain instructed, and the rest followed. "All snipers- clear to engage."

While Ryuka took out the men handling the AT-4s, Roach took care of the rest of them. "This is Red Dragon, tower Echo clear, ready to move to the other tower," Ryuka reported. It was a tedious job, sometimes, being the Lieutenant. You had to repeat anything that's laid out in the open… Well at least Ghost was doing the same as well.

MacTavish nodded, and said, "Shift right." The Little Bird shifted, and they did the same on the next tower. "I see four hostiles on the next tower!" Just as they were about to take them out, an F-15 flew right in front of them, causing the Little Bird to rock as the result of the air-draft.

"Hang on!" the pilot shouted, and maneuvered to stabilize the helicopter.

MacTavish was not happy at all. "Shepherd, get those fighters to cease fire immediately!" he snapped at Shepherd. "That was too close!"

"I'll try to buy you some time," Shepherd replied. "One man in the Gulag doesn't mean much to the Navy at this point…"

Ghost had already seemed to have lost his patience. "Bloody yanks, I thought they were the good guys!"

"Ghost, cut the chatter, stay frosty!" MacTavish growled. Apparently, this was not a smooth mission as everyone had expected it to be.

* * *

It was utter controlled chaos, and just as the Little Birds landed, guns were being fired at them from every single direction. They had no choice but to take cover behind one of the tanks that had been nearest to them. "Two-One in position for gun run," the gunned Little Bird's pilot announced.

"Copy Two One," MacTavish replied. "Lasing target on the second floor!"

The six tangos on the second floor were annihilated, by the Little Bird's guns, and they were clear to advance further into the compound. "Cover me, will you, boys?" Ryuka asked the Navy SEAL named Worm and Roach when she could see a few tangos reloading their guns behind the wall. She could get to them with her katana before they were even ready.

"Reddie, come back here!" MacTavish shouted just seconds after the two nodded their answer. But by then, three men were already decapitated, and they were clear to head towards the entrance of the Gulag. "Never mind… the entrance is up ahead, keep moving!"

More hostiles came towards them, but were all eliminated as they pushed forwards, blood splattered against the walls of the Gulag, snow, and even the ground, the sounds of feet moving and guns being fired increased from every direction. They were increasingly being outnumbered, and they needed to get in, fast. And get in, they did.

"This is it!" MacTavish announced. "This is it, we go in, grab Prisoner 627 and get out!"

"That's the control room up ahead," Ghost said. "I can use it to find the prisoner, it's gonna take some time!"

MacTavish seemed to agree with the idea. The mission could go on easier with someone lighting the path for them. "Copy that," he said. "Roach, Reddie, we're on cell duty, follow me!"

The two mentioned nodded, and Ryuka signaled to a few of the Navy SEALs to come with them as well. They would need the extra manpower, there would be no doubt about it. Descending a flight of stairs, they were met with more tangos, tangos which they had all eradicated. "Alright, I'm patched in," Ghost announced. "I'm tracking your progress on the security cameras."

"Copy that, do you have the location of Prisoner 627?" MacTavish asked. Ghost, however, said that he did not, but put up a searchlight for them to highlight the presence of incoming hostiles. "Roger that, stay sharp, the prisoner can be in one of these cells… Ghost, we've hit a security door, get it open!"

"Working on it… this hardware is ancient!"

"With all the money he has, the bastard cannot even maintain his own private Gulag…" Ryuka sighed, a snide jab at Makarov, but was kind of appropriate at the time. A few of them chuckled, but MacTavish; let's say that the mission was getting slightly on his nerves.

"Reddie…"

"Alright, alright," Ryuka said, "Keep the comms clear, I get it."

Something was not right at all. All of these cells were empty, and not a sign of life apart from the hostiles that came running towards them. They had cleared a few levels, and still, the result was the same. "Talk to me Ghost," MacTavish growled. "These cells are deserted!"

"Got it!" Ghost replied, "Prisoner 627's been transferred to the East Wing… Head through the armory in the center, that's the fastest way there."

"Ghost, if this is a Gulag, where the hell are the other prisoners?" Ryuka asked, looking around. "This place is a Gulag… It should be filled to the brim with people…" At that point of time, all they had seen were only hostiles, and not a single prisoner. The walls of the cells, she could see, were filled with bloodstains that had been dried for a few days…

Although Ryuka had fell silent since her question, the grim realization washed through everyone. There was a strong possibility that Makarov could have anticipated their moves, and killed everyone in there, one by one… "Let's hope that 627's still alive, then," Roach said. There was nothing more to be said.

"Bad news, mates," Ghost said, suddenly, clearing the air, and the tension. "I'm tracking three, no, four hostile squads converging on your position." Well, that could not be good at all. That would been that there would be around eighty people, against the six of them. Just perfect.

"I can hear them coming!" MacTavish said. "Let's go, we're too exposed! Ghost, open the door!"

And open the door, Ghost did, but it somehow stopped halfway. "Bloody hell, they've locked it from the hardline, I'll have to run a bypass…" Ryuka unsheathed her katana again, and hacked at the steel grates of the door, only emitting sparks as a result. It was a heavy duty-door which could be only opened from the control room.

"Too late, they're already here!" MacTavish could see them, all eighty of them firing from various positions. "We're gonna need more cover. Grab a riot shield!" The team did as they were told, while Ryuka had been forced to go behind him, as they were not enough to go around. "Open the door!"

"Almost there," Ghost replied. "Routing through the auxiliary circuit…" And then, the ultimate moment of magic, the door was opened. The team quickly advanced through the other level, using the riot shields to draw the fire of the incoming hostiles. "Ghost here, recommend you bypass the lower floors by rappelling out that window!"

"Copy that… Reddie, Roach, follow me!"

The lowest level was dark, dank and wet. There were puddles of water all over the place, and the stench of stagnant water was overwhelming. Every step they took was a step closer to Prisoner 627, but with every single step, they saw more and more bloodstains. "They must have been executed in their cells…" Ryuka said, touching one of the splatters of blood. MacTavish took her hand by the wrist and shook his head. Understanding his intentions, she did not say anything further.

One by one, they passed new hallways, with empty cells. These were solitary confinement cells, where not even the light of the sun could reach. They must be a ways underground… And as they passed into a lighted hallway, the Gulag started to shake and rumble. An explosion was heard, and more light entered, due to the hole that had been formed.

"Shepherd, what the hell was that?" MacTavish shouted. "Get the Navy to cease fire!"

"The Navy isn't in a talking mood right now," Shepherd replied. "Standby, Bravo Six – they've agreed to stop firing for now. Keep going, I'll keep you posted, out." They did not fear from Shepherd after that.

* * *

Roach planted a breaching charge on the wall that led to the old showers, blasting open a hole for them to enter. "I'll take out the hostiles on the second floor," Ryuka said, getting up a ladder on the far side of the wall once they got in. MacTavish nodded, and led the others into the shower rooms. "Captain, teams with riot shields right in front of you. Suggest using grenades or flanking them."

"You heard the lady, move quickly and hit them from the side," MacTavish said. "Or, cook your grenades to detonate behind them!" Soon, the troops with the riot shields were already down, and so were the hostiles on the second level. By then, Ryuka had already got back down, and had slashed one heavy assault troop from behind, severing his arm off completely. "I'm heading for that hole in the far end of the showers," he told the team. One by one, they jumped into the hole, and into a tunnel system, filled with more stagnant water. "Ghost, we're in the old tunnel system, heading south-southwest."

"Ok, keep going along that tunnel…" Ghost said. "You're almost there…"

It was then when Ryuka felt a spark of Ki that she had never felt before… A sudden burst of energy that she could recognize anywhere… She did not dare to keep her hopes up, for fear of getting disappointed, but she knew that it was there, it was near them… "I sense activity behind that wall," she told the others. "Two men…"

"That's a positive, Reddie," Ghost replied. "I'm detecting two heat signatures – one of them should be Prisoner 627."

Another breaching charge was placed, and the wall was blasted open. They were right. There really were two men in that area, one strangling the other with a chain. Ryuka took a dagger from her pouch a threw it at the guard who was being strangled, alerting the 627, who punched the person closest to him, who turned out to be Roach, and pointed the AK-47 in his hands at the kid.

"Drop it," MacTavish warned sternly, and immediately, 627 looked up, unbelieving in what he saw.

"Soap… Ryuka?" he asked. It had been a long, long time since he had seen the two of them, and at the same place as well…

"Price?" MacTavish returned, just as surprised as he was. Ryuka, too, immediately went towards Price and gave him a big hug, without saying anything, leaving Worm to wonder just who this "Soap" was.

They did not have the time for a reunion right there in the Gulag, not when another explosion caused the place to shake violently. This time, it had been worse than the last one. "Come on, we gotta get outta here, move!" MacTavish barked.

"Bravo Six be advised," another voice came into the comms, the pilot of the Pave Low that was going to extract them. "They've started the bombardment early, get the hell outta there now!"

Together, the team along with Price made their way to the end of the tunnel, but before they were even able to get into the chopper, the tunnel collapsed, causing them to turn back. "There is another way out," Ryuka said, leading them back towards where they had started, turning at a place where they had not noticed. It was an old cafeteria, but there was a gaping hole at the ceiling.

"Six-Four, where the hell are you, over?" MacTavish asked.

"There's too much smoke," Six Four replied. "I can't see you!"

Pieces of rubble started to fall all around them, due to the bombardment, and the already decaying structure. The Gulag would not stand erect for long. Roach was getting nervous, and unwittingly stepped right under one rather large piece of rubble. "Roach!" Ryuka and MacTavish called him, while Price quickly got the piece of rubble off him.

"Whatever you're gonna do Soap, do it fast!" Price yelled, as Ryuka checked Roach for any injuries, thanking the Shinto Gods when she found out that he was sustaining only minor injuries. By then, MacTavish had already fired a flare from his M203, and a SPIE rig was dropped from Six Four's Pave Low, having seen them already. "Let's go, let's go!"

They hooked themselves up onto the SPIE rig, and was pulled up by the chopper, one by one. The skies had never been bluer, and the clouds, never whiter for Captain Price. He could see from above the American Navy in all its splendor, completely decimating the prison that had held him for the past five years. Freedom, was no longer a distant thought, but a reality.

* * *

HAN: WHEW, that was long. ^.^ The Gulag is always the longest chapter to write... ahahahaha ^.^ Thanks ecto1b for her kind review, and oh yes, the sunrise scene in the last chapter had been referenced from hers, so thank her for it!

And I'm going to ask you guys another question. Would you like Price to walk in on Soap and Ryuka, just for fun?


	11. Part 1: The Uncle's Welcome

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Land Base – Location classified

* * *

"How come you never told me that you knew Price?" MacTavish asked Ryuka. They were in a rather isolated place in the land-base, safe from enemy fire, where their men could recuperate for a few days. Price had been in the infirmary, after they had discussed several future courses of action, where Doc was giving him a complete health check, and was occupied for the next few hours, thus, leaving them some time alone for one another.

Ryuka chuckled, and caressed the side of his face. "You never asked, Captain," she answered simply. "We thought that he was dead as well, as you did, to some extent," she continued, after a long pause. "Even my father could not get information regarding your operations in Russia. Shepherd knew, but he had no clearance to reveal it to us…"

"Your father?" MacTavish asked again. He knew that her father had been a soldier, like all Algrens were, but who he was actually, in the US Armed Forces, was pretty much a mystery, other the facts that she had already told them. "You said that he was a Marine. What does he have to do with anything?"

"My father was the Commandant of the Marines, of course he was a Marine," Ryuka replied, her tone of voice changing. "He was the one who sent SSgt. Griggs to help Uncle Price and you boys." This would mean that she had known who he was all along, and she never told him?"

Every single one in the 141 had their own story, stories that they would not tell one another; Stories that only the closest and nearest to them knew. "Ryuka…" MacTavish murmured, holding her in his arms. None of them had ever chosen to bear the burdens that they were carrying on their shoulders. He did not choose his; perhaps, she did not, when hers had come.

"I have to admit, that at first, I wanted to have you tell me whatever you knew about Uncle Price's last location," Ryuka admitted. She had known since Day One of the Task Force 141 that he was the "sole survivor" of the joint operation between the British SAS and the USMC. In the early days of their history together, she had seduced him, repeatedly, hoping to retrieve the information that she had so badly wanted from him. However, she had fallen into her own trap. She had fallen for him, and she had fallen hard. When she realized that he did not speak of those things because the pain he had felt from that incident, she stopped, knowing that one day, he would do so on his own accord. How ironic that he had done so, just the day before they had recovered Price.

MacTavish looked at her, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What happened then?" he asked her, smiling as she did. He locked his gaze with hers, and their foreheads met. Ryuka, although appearing to be a simple soldier, was more than that. She was a woman who never done anything without intention, without proper calculation. Ryuka, more than he did, had leadership potential, and the whole world knew it.

"I loved you," she replied, a genuine smile. He knew her long enough to see through every single expression on her face. It was not difficult to love him at all. He had been a handsome man from the beginning, caring, and generous. He would help anyone in need of it, and he would make sure that nothing would go wrong for them. A soldier's loyalty, paired with a shared and concealed fire between them, was what had drawn her to him. She had loved him before she realized that how much.

She was about to continue, but MacTavish sealed his lips with hers. He backed her onto the wall, and held her by her wrists at each side of her head. Their tongues met, and danced between their mouths. He released her wrists, but brought his arms around her waist, caressing her buttocks from the standard-issue military pants that she had been wearing, a refreshing change from the catsuit that she had always worn in the field. He kissed her jawline, from one side to the other, and back, feeling her fingers slide beneath the waist of his pants, to reach for his buttocks, caressing them, oh, so lightly.

In their passion, there were only the two of them, and in that world of fire, where only the two of them had known, even Ryuka, could not sense the presence of a familiar existence walking towards them, and stopping almost in utter shock. By then, MacTavish had lifted her top a little ways above her breasts, exposing her bra rather well, the both of them still connected in an ever-deepening kiss…

"What. The. Hell…"

Abruptly they stopped, and quickly turned towards the intruder. It was Price. "Jiji!" Ryuka squealed, releasing herself from MacTavish. This was not a good situation at all. She was already blushing red, and hid behind the Captain of the 141, while Price just stood there, stunned.

"Price…" MacTavish said, cautiously. The man had been in the Gulag for a long, long time now. There was no telling what could have happened to him. Almost expecting a violent burst of over-protectiveness from his former superior, Price just sighed, and let a cigar, which he had probably nicked from some unlucky bastard.

"Well, I'd like to talk to the both of you when you're done," Price said. "You two have a lotta explainin' to do." With those words, he turned back, and headed towards the mess hall.

Ryuka groaned. "We are going to be shredded to pieces, skinned alive, cooked in oil, and then killed," she told him. "In that order." Being "busted" by Price, did not feel very good at all, and she was expecting one hell of a lecture. MacTavish said nothing, and squeezed her hand. "Obviously, you have not seen much of Uncle Price, that blasted jiji…"

MacTavish chuckled, and only had that to say. "What does 'Jiji' mean?"

"It means old man," she explained. Old man? Price was what, only in his forties, approaching his fifties? "He always had that…" she did a gesture which indicated Price's iconic handlebar moustache. MacTavish shook his head, and together, they walked towards the mess hall. They would have the interrogation of their lives.

* * *

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141

Mess Hall

* * *

They were having dinner when Captain Price, the new Captain and latest member of the Task Force 141, unofficially, that is, decided to join them. Ryuka and MacTavish came in soon after. Somehow, from the looks of the two latter ones' faces, it was not going to be good at all.

"Reddie, darlin', anything wrong?" Ghost asked Ryuka, who was as red as a beetroot. She did not say anything, but nodded her head at Price. "Oh…" Ever since their escape from the Gulag, he had known that Ryuka had also known Price, calling him "Uncle" somehow or another, and seeing that look on MacTavish, he knew for sure, that something was going a little bit tense. He turned to the men, and said, "Alright, boys, it's a family meeting. Pack it up; I want this mess hall cleared in five minutes."

Immediately, and with clockwork precision, the members of the 141 finished up their dinner, and cleared the mess hall. However, no one said that they could not watch the proceedings from the windows of the mess hall, which was what they practically did.

The two men basically looked at one another silently, wondering what to say, glancing back at Ryuka, occasionally. Ryuka knew that in any other orthodox movement in any single branch or any country's armed forces, the relationships between personnel would only lay on the strongest of brotherhood. Even if there were women, such relationships had been utterly unheard of. However, the Task Force 141 was not just any other arm of any other military. They were a collective force, formed by collective individuals, the best the world had to offer. MacTavish had been their Captain, one of the world's greatest snipers and demolitions experts, while Ryuka was the leading Black Ops specialist and was an equally fair sniper. There could not have been a better match than the two of them.

"The two of you…" Price said, wagging his finger from MacTavish to Ryuka, at a loss for words. Knowing the hijinks of perfectly busybody souls, he turned to the window behind him, and found the many men there nodding their heads fervently. "Why am I even asking this?"

"Uncle Price…" Ryuka said, but Price held up a hand, indicating that he wished to speak. Price, she knew, was an old fashioned soldier. If _they_ had been in the SAS in his day, well, they would have been kicked out in two seconds flat. However, the former Captain in the ranks of the British SAS did nothing of the sort.

MacTavish, on the other hand, said nothing. He just took Ryuka's hand in his, a blatant act of defiance, but then again, he was a Captain as well, and therefore, on equal footing with Price. If this was what it was like, bringing forth his relationship to Price, he shuddered to think how it would be, speaking to Ryuka's father (he had seen her mother and grandmother during their mission in the Kyoto Mountains).

Taking a deep breath, Price put his hands on both their shoulders. "I'm happy for the two of you," he said to them. "God knows what the two of you have seen together, and I don't wanna know. But if you could make it work for so long, there's no doubt that you can make it work in the future."

There was a loud chorus of cheers and wolf-whistles from the outside. Finally, the open secret was no longer a secret, but was laid out, for all to see. Well, for those who really believed that MacTavish was some unfeeling bastard and that Ghost and Ryuka were a real item, they were pretty much idiots.

"Thank you, Uncle Price," Ryuka said, hugging Price tightly. "I thought that you would bite John's head off."

"And have you bite off mine?" Price asked in return, ruffling the top of Ryuka's head. "I don't think so, Reddie. I just got out of Makarov's Gulag, I don't want to die so soon." Ryuka smiled, one that Price had not seen in a long, long time. In fact, MacTavish had never seen her so happy before. He walked towards Ryuka when she turned towards him, and embraced her as well, igniting more cheers from the rest of the 141. "Soap, I think they want something more than that," he teased.

And he was right. "Kiss the girl, kiss the girl!" they chanted, led on by Roach, no less. Rolling her eyes, Ryuka threw one of her throwing daggers towards the window, which cracked the thick glass, but did no larger damage. Fazed for a few seconds only, they continued their nigh-rabid chants, and even MacTavish knew that they would not stop until they got what they wanted.

"Alright, just this once," MacTavish told them, and tipped Ryuka over to kiss her. The boys seemed satisfied, celebrating amongst one another, but when the kiss elevated into something more substantial, they immediately shouted for their Captain and Lieutenant to stop. "That would teach them something," he whispered into her ear.

"John, I think that Shepherd would have you court-martialed for causing severe brain hemorrhages on his men," Ryuka replied with a chuckle. Soon, they began to file back into the mess hall, ready for some "interrogations" of their own. However, there were more important things on the agenda, following that necessary light-hearted moment. "You will have plenty of time for that, boys, I promise you. But now is no longer the time for fun and for games."

The 141 knew that tone of voice from Ryuka, when her jovial smile was gone, replaced with a rather stern expression. "We'll need you to listen, and to listen well, because whatever we do on this next mission is absolutely crucial for the war effort," Ghost added.

Complete silence reigned in the mess hall. All eyes then fell upon the two Captains, MacTavish and Price. "People," MacTavish said. "We're gonna go rogue. I know that this doesn't sound right, but if we play our cards properly, we could be saving huge amounts of lives. We're not forcing all of you to participate. We just need, say, a team of ten to help us out. It would even the scales for the Americans greatly, at the rate the Russians are advancing on them."

* * *

HAN: Awwww... BUSTED! ^.^ Tell me what you think of this filler, it was fun writing! One more chapter, which is Contingency, and then we're gonna move on to the "original" parts of the previous Red Dragon. Anyone excited? Yes? No? Please tell me! ^.^


	12. Part 1: Contingency

The Task Force 141 had the strangest hierarchy in any military faction. Of course, the big cheese, the alpha and the omega, the big kahuna, was Shepherd, followed by MacTavish, their Captain, and the two Lieutenants, Ghost and Ryuka. Anyone other than that, were pretty much equals, despite their ranks from whatever branch of whatever armed forces they had come from. It made things simple, and clear cut. And now, Price, was their second Captain.

MacTavish had known from the start that Price could easily assimilate into the 141. After all, everything that he was, had been learnt from Price. They were used to their kind of leadership. The only other thing, was the big kahuna…er, Shepherd. He dared not officially declare Price as the co-Captain, without the general's approval. Hence, he started a video-call so that the two of them could talk face to face.

"They know each other, trust me," Ryuka said, as he typed away on the computer. As she had told him before, her father, Price and Shepherd had met during the Gulf War, but while Price and her father had become the best of friends, things still remained cool between the British Captain and the American General.

"I'll keep that in mind," MacTavish replied, pausing to kiss Ryuka on the temple before she left to call Price in. This was not a conversation that a Lieutenant should be present in, and she knew it. "Uplink nearly complete," he announced when Price came in the room. "General Shepherd, you're online with Captain Price."

"Back from the brink, Captain," Shepherd said, his voice, highly amused. MacTavish listened, starting to believe what Ryuka said about the relationship between the two of them. There was a dark sense of familiarity between them, but not of the sort that he had felt with the other members of the 141 and Price.

Price chuckled, rather cynically at that. "Out of the frying pan is more like it," he answered, "This world looks more like hell than the one I just left." That, was utterly textbook of Price, and it seemed that Shepherd had been expecting such a response as well.

"We thought that we could recover the ACS module before the Russians could crack it," Shepherd explained. "We were wrong, then Makarov turned the US into his scapegoat, and the next thing you know, there're flames everywhere." He was literally stopped mid-sentence when he started receiving files from their end. Image files, for that matter. "What's this image you're sending me?" he asked.

It was a Russian submarine. Shepherd had seen it before, briefly. It was mentioned in one of the files that Ryuka had recovered from one of Makarov's right hand men (the last one that she had tortured and killed), but he did not pay much attention to it. A program then started to show him the images one by one, analyzing every single detail on the submarine. As it turned out, it was more than another submarine, it had a nuclear capacity of 16 megatons. If the payload was dropped upon the United States, the results would be more than just horrible… It would be like the Second Russian Civil War all over again.

"You wanna put out an oil fire sir, you set off a bigger explosion right next to it," Price answered. "Sucks out the oxygen, snuffs the flame."

"Price, you've been locked up for too long," Shepherd said. "Better get your mind right, son." Price was completely unlike Ryuka's father. He had a mind of his own, and a mind that no one else could fathom. Shepherd could rein Ryuka in as well, no matter how feisty she was, but Price was a different monster altogether. It was that stubbornness, and that defiant strength that had kept him alive in a Russian Gulag for five years, and he knew it well.

It seemed like Price did not want to have "no" for an answer. "Shepherd, are you willing to do what is necessary to win?" he asked the older man. Actually, Price knew just how much Shepherd would do in order to secure victory. Even when he had been only a colonel, this man was ruthless to his enemies, and would never even blink an eye when his men were lost or dead. He showed no concern, no mercy, and no hint of humanity upon the field. That was why Price did not trust him as much as Ryuka's father did. He had no choice however, serving as Shepherd's subordinate.

"Always," Shepherd answered. His actions had proved more than just that, which was for certain.

"We got ourselves a pretty big fire, gonna need a huge bang," Price continued. It was taking too long, usually, it would not take much to convince this man for any single chance of victory. Something was wrong, and Price knew it. He just did not know what, where, and how. He could feel it, right in his bones, and he knew that no one in the 141 knew about it. He would have to keep his mouth shut for some time, to ensure the safety of himself and the others as well.

"You've been in the Gulag for too long," Shepherd said, almost losing his patience. "Focus on taking out Makarov."

Price however, saw things differently. "No time, sir. We need to end this war today."

"I'm not asking you, Price," Shepherd countered. "This is an order! You're to…"

And with one hit of a single key on the keyboard, the conversation was ended. They wanted Shepherd's confirmation that Price could be in the 141, and they had it, thanks to the last words that Shepherd had uttered. "Hmm… Looks like we've lost our connection."

* * *

Sgt Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

14 Miles SSE of Petropavlosk, Russia.

* * *

"Price, Reddie, I can barely see Roach's chute on the satellite feed," MacTavish said. "Too much interference… Do you see him, over?"

Ryuka chuckled. She was about to say that Roach always popped up in the most unexpected of places when Price found him. "Roger that Soap," the man said. "I've found Roach, he appears to be intact. We're gonna head northwest to the sub-base, over."

"Copy that," MacTavish replied. "The rest of the team landed near Ghost, pretty far to the east. Reddie, take care of them, won't you?"

"Will do, Captain," Ryuka answered, getting her M14 EBR ready. "They will not have a single scratch on them, I promise." Of course, leave the baby-and-old man sitting to Reddie. However, she knew that MacTavish meant well, or he would not have given her such a task. The three of them moved on, the snow lightly crunching under their footsteps. Petropavlosk was utterly beautiful during winter, but as of late, it had been a war-zone, and those that were fighting in it, could not have the time to appreciate the white blanket that covered almost everything, and the trees, the evergreen trees that dotted both sides of the road, creating hints of green amidst a sea of white.

As they trekked forwards, they could see a patrol right before them. "Contact, enemy patrol 30 meters to our front," Price announced, "Five men, automatic rifles, frag grenades, one German Shepherd."

"Dogs?" MacTavish asked. "I hate dogs." Ryuka rolled her eyes. A few months ago, she had almost managed to convince the team to sneak a little snow-white puppy with a pretty pink ribbon into the land base, but utterly failed, due to MacTavish's sensitive nose. The Captain of the 141 was not afraid of dogs, not in any way, but was allergic to them. And Ryuka had been planning to make Snowball their mascot, in hindsight.

"These Russian dogs are like pussy cats compared to the ones in Pripyat," Price said.

"It's good to have you back, old man," MacTavish said. Old man? Since when did MacTavish have the gall to call him an old man? Oh yes, Price remembered, he was a Captain already…

"Copy that," Price replied. "Let's follow them quietly and pick of any stragglers." Roach and Ryuka nodded, and followed his lead.

* * *

One thing that Ryuka had always known, but hardly ever witnessed, was that Price's skill with a gun. The man could handle almost every kind of weapon that he laid his hands on. They had now reached the head of the village near the submarine base, where the snow had already covered the houses that dotted the landscape. Abandoning their silenced M14s, they switched weapons, and Ryuka had chosen the M240 with the red dot sight and a heartbeat sensor, while Price had chosen a P90.

"Check your fire, check your fire," Ghost warned. His voice was something that Ryuka was gald to hear on that mission. "Friendlies coming in at your 12. Reddie, what's the status?"

"The SAM site has destroyed one of our Predator drones," she replied. "And we almost got run over by a BTR… All in all, we are fine." Time was of the essence, and with more and more Russians dashing towards them, there had not been enough time for small talks, or status reports at all.

Together, they pushed towards the submarine base, which was just right after the village. "The second Predator is almost in position," MacTavish said. "Make it count, these things don't grow on trees."

All of them heard what he said, even though nobody acknowledged it. "Roach, soften their defenses with the Predator," Price instructed when they spotted the submarine from afar. "Watch out for the flashing strobes, that's us!"

Roach nodded, and started to open the console that controlled the Predator drone and hit the area concentrated with the most hostiles, as well as the SAM site. "Good job, Roach," Ryuka praised, petting him on the shoulder. He looked up at her and nodded. Her praise had been seconded by MacTavish, who had confirmed that Roach had scored about five plus KIAs. "And now, we can get to the fun part."

They ran into the base together, taking down enemy after enemy, with Price leading them. On and off again, Roach would use the Predator drone to their advantage, while the others gunned down any single soul that dared to stand in their way. "I'm going for the sub!" Price said when the submarine was already in sight. "Cover me from the guardhouse by that west gate!"

Ghost quickly gathered the men to the position which Price had indicated, while Ryuka took a share of them to defend the position on the ground. The Russians, they were relentless. One after the other, wave after wave, after wave, and they were still coming towards them… Time was running out, and they were already low on ammo. Ryuka threw the M240 to a guy who needed it, and unsheathed her katana instead.

There they stood their ground, while Price toiled from within the submarine. "Contact to the north, on the dock next to the sub!"

"I'm on it!" Ryuka shouted, having seen the group of enemy soldiers. Standing in the stance that came so naturally for her, she placed her katana back into its saya. Those men, they were fools for stopping to watch her, and when she started her attack, it happened so fast that they could not see her move. The one closest to her had been severed into half horizontally, while the other two had been shot down by Roach and Ghost respectively.

And then, something happened. Sensing movement, Ryuka looked to her right, and found that the submarine was moving… When the mist cleared, they realized that it was the silo doors of the submarine. They were opening!

"Jiji…" Ryuka murmured, stopping there momentarily before the boys shouted for her to return to the guardhouse. Something was wrong. Something was going very, very wrong. If the missiles were fired, there would be no hope left for the Americans. 16 megatons would cause utter catastrophe, it would kill more than just the soldiers that were defending the country, but the citizens as well, women, children, men… The land itself would suffer…

"Price, are you there?" Ghost asked with desperation laced so thickly in his voice. "The silo doors are open, I repeat, the silo doors are open!" There was no response from Price at all. "Price, come in! They're opening the silo doors on the sub! Hurry, Price, do you copy?"

"Uncle Price, the silo doors are open!" Ryuka shouted as well. "Get the hell out of there, Jiji!."

However, Price seemed to see things quite differently from the two Lieutenants. "Good…" they heard him say, and the missiles were launched into the air.

"We have a missile launch… Missile in the air… Missile in the air!" Ghost exclaimed. "Code black, code black!"

* * *

HAN: Whew, finally, Contingency is down. WOOHOO! ^.^ How do you think Ryuka would react to Soap not telling her about his and Price's plans? A) Be a good soldier and say nothing or B) Lots of angry sex?


	13. Part 1: The Parting

"It's been a though week, gentlemen… and lady," Shepherd said to the Task Force 141. All of them were gathered in the mess hall for a final briefing.

They had received Intel that the war would soon end, the very moment they captured Vladimir Makarov. As it turned out, the missile that Price had launched was aimed high in the atmosphere, causing an EMP that disabled all electronics in the vicinity of Washington D.C. Although they had lost the International Space Station as a result, the American soldiers had been able to take the moment of confusion and drive the Russians back from the White House. They were retreating back to Virginia as the briefing went on.

"We've lost more than we ever dreamed, but we will recover," Shepherd continued. "I've got a blank check, and we're gonna use every cent of it killin' Makarov. Despite what the world may say, we are not savages. We don't kill civilians. We use precision. There's an evil man hiding in the shadows and we're gonna bring him into the light. Once his face is revealed, we will write history, people."

A satellite feed was shown on the projector screen, indicating that there were three possible locations where Vladimir Makarov was suspected to be. One of them was in the vicinity of the beautiful Caucasus Mountains, which was Makarov's safehouse-estate, and the other, was in an American vehicle disposal area in Kandahar, Afghanistan, dubbed the "Boneyard", where Makarov had been suspected of conducting an arms deal there.

"These are the last safe havens left on Earth for Makarov and his men…"

Price crossed his arms and walked forwards, closer to the projector screen. "Sounds like we gotta be in two places at once," he mused. That would be dangerous. At any one time, half of the 141 could be wiped out, and the other half would not be able to get to them in time.

Shepherd gave a cynical chuckle, and turned towards Price. He knew that Price was a man of utter confidence and resolve. "Impossible?" he asked Price, pushing his buttons further.

"Not for the 141," was the reply.

Ghost, of all people, seemed to be highly interested with this mission. "Fifty-fifty chance to take out Makarov, eh?" he asked, receiving silent nods as an answer. "Captain Price, request permission to take the safehouse with Roach."

"Granted," Price replied. "Soap and I will take the Boneyard in Afghanistan."

By then, Ryuka's eyes widened. She was the Lieutenant of the Task Force 141 as much as Ghost had been, where did her duties lie for the final missions? A word was not uttered, not until MacTavish and Shepherd told her to stay after the briefing. "What am I to do, stay back at the base and take care of the children?" she asked the three men standing before her, a hint of disappointment evident in her voice.

MacTavish shook his head, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He knew that Ryuka's heart lied in the heart of battle. He knew that she would have done everything in her power and abilities to take Makarov down. But he had to be selfish, just this once. He had to protect her, Anything could have happened to them. Where she would be going was another suspected hideout of Makarov's, but it was just a wild guess, only a rumor. She would be in relative safety there.

"You're gonna investigate an orphanage in Dushanbe," Shepherd told her. "We've received intel that Makarov's intel network is based there, near an orphanage. Get in there, and disable the intel station." Ryuka's skills on information gathering were not limited to extracting said information from torture. But that was not why Shepherd had stationed her there in Dushanbe. "Reddie. If anything happens, Dushanbe will be the place we send the boys to. You have to make sure that the place is safe in case of any… eventuality."

Ryuka nodded in understanding. However, it did not mean that she liked the decision. "This order does not come from you, General," she said, but turned to MacTavish. "It came from someone else."

"Whoever it was, Reddie, you're heading to Tajikstan, and that's final," Price added, his expression soft, and not stern. He knew Ryuka, and he knew MacTavish. The two of them would have to come to a decision of their own, and only Ryuka could change MacTavish's mind on this, if anything. "I'll leave you two to talk it out."

* * *

If the two of them could have fought it out, there was no telling who could win. MacTavish was strong, and he had a level of endurance that few men ever could compete, while Ryuka, she was skilled beyond any other. If they would have shot each other, the two of them would have easily killed one another. But when it came to reason, and words, Ryuka could make bent iron rods straight and then bend them again. MacTavish did not have that ability.

"How long have you known me, John?" she asked him, turning away from him, her white arms crossed. "You know that I would give my life for each and every one of you. Am I not one of the 141? Have I not proven my quality in the field? Why, of all places you would send me to Dushanbe when you know that my place is in battle with the rest of you?"

She was furious. MacTavish knew that more than anything. He walked towards her and held her in his arms from behind. "I can't risk losing you," he told her, holding her tighter. Her scent, in filled his nostrils, and he kissed the arch of her neck lightly. "If the Intel is off, then you'd be safe."

"And what about you?" she asked him, turning towards him. She spoke no further. She need not say anything further. He loved her, she knew it, but she would have given everything she had to fight beside him. "I do not fear death, you know that."

"I'll come back for you," he told her, smoothing his fingers in her red hair. "When everything's done, we'll meet at Dushanbe. I promise you."

Ryuka shook her head. "There is nothing to hold you to this promise, John," she told him. They could all be marching to their deaths for all she knew. Once they headed out in three different directions the next morning, she may not see every single one of them again.

With those words, MacTavish started to nibble and suck on the skin on her shoulder, kissing a trail up and down the side of her neck as he had done so. In its wake, he left a mark right there, a love bite. "I'll be back before this clears up," he promised her. "I'll do everything I can."

"You had better," she told him, and closed the distance between their lips with hers. It was the kiss that ignited the greatest burst of fire between the two of them.

* * *

"I love you," MacTavish whispered into her ear. They were at a different place now, her quarters. The two of them had ended up there, after a series of fervent, passionate kisses that seemed to take place after she had started the initial contact between them, all while moving to the one haven that they had shared many times before, which had been the closest to them from the mess hall. Ryuka knew, more than anything, that those words were not uttered lightly on his part. She knew that he had meant those words she knew that every single syllable came from his heart.

That was why she did not press him on, for anything more that he had said. That was why, she moved on her tip-toes, so that her black eyes were level with his blue ones, and said, "Then show me." Resolute, short and concise, those words were, and they served only a single purpose. Those words were a catalyst, a mixture between the request of a subordinate, the wish of a lover, and the pleading of a woman. There had been no reason why MacTavish should not grant it.

Whatever clothes between them were shed quickly, between kisses that made all of their previous ones mere child's play in comparison. He took her in his arms, and carried her onto the bed, where he started to suck upon each of her nipples, hardened with excitement and anticipation for what was going to come. "Beautiful," he rasped, alternating between each peak of her breasts, feeling her snake her legs around his waist.

Ryuka moaned, and pushed his head closer to her breasts, urging him silently to continue whatever he was doing to her. "John..." she called his name, scoring his back with her fingernails, which thankfully, were kept short. She needed him, with every single particle of her being, and he knew it well. He kissed her once again, something shorter, but no less erotic, his hands now moving to her womanhood, stroking her outer lips ever so gently.

She was ready for him, he knew it from her voice, he knew it from how her body was moulded against his own. However, he would wait a little longer, for her. Using his deft fingers, he parted the folds of her womanhood and assaulted her with his tongue. He could have sworn that she screamed at the top of her lungs. It did not matter, however, the quarters of the personnel in their landbase, they were soundproofed. The others would not hear a single thing.

MacTavish, above anything, was skilled and precise. He knew how she wanted him to touch her, to give her pleasure, and he did so completely. And when he was about to continue his sweet torture of her being, she stopped him. Instead, kissed him, rather hungrily, and moved her body over his. "Ryuka..." he uttered, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a throaty groan.

The Red Dragon, she kissed the man she loved and brought her fingers around his girth. She stroked him, her fingers ascending and descending his length, while her tongue danced with his between their mouths, catching his moans of satisfaction one by one. Instinct came over her, and she kissed a trail down from his heavenly lips to the base of his manhood. She knew what he had wanted her to do, and she would do just that.

Enveloping his manhood in her mouth, she began to suck him. It had been painfully slow at first, alternating between expert licking his entire length, as well, and it progressed into something faster, something deeper. MacTavish, he had been in utter ecstasy, but he would not finish their act of passion in her part alone. He halted her, earning a small whimper, and kissed the top of her head while he positioned himself over her was again.

Their tongues met again, and this time, they had been more fervent, more needing of one another. As he gripped her hair with one hand, and her shoulder with the other, MacTavish thrust his erect shaft into her, the first of many that would transcend them onto the embrace of heaven. At that moment in time, their duties to one another, to their countries, their families, all that made them who they were, were transported into the back of their minds. Before their very eyes, the smouldering orbs of ebony, and the cold gaze of blue, they had become one. Moving together, moving to the very heights of pleasure.

Looking back, she had forgotten when they had succumbed to their orgasms. All that she would remember was that they had not been who they were that night when they made love; Just one man, and one woman, who loved one another, who had consummated that love. He had remained in her depths for what seemed like an eternity, only removing himself from her just seconds before sleep began to take him.

* * *

They were spooned against one another. It made MacTavish recall an old wives' tale that if you did this, and if your partner would fit completely with you, you had already found your perfect match. He did not need an old wives' tale to confirm that Ryuka had been made for him. He had known it ever since he had first laid eyes on her.

"I love you, John," he heard her murmur, bringing his arms tighter around her to keep out the cold winter air as much as she could. It seemed that in their passion, they had forgotten to close the windows. It was too late to remedy the situation anyways.

Smiling, MacTavish craned his neck to reach her forehead and kissed it. "I love you too," he replied. Winding his fingers with hers, he nuzzled her neck, and discovered that she was already asleep, following her into her dreams mere seconds later.

* * *

HAN: Ah, finally, the lemon we've all been waiting for. ^.^ There are many to come as well, ahahaha. *Cough* *Makarov* *Cough* Did I say Makarov? I meant something else, hehehehhehehe. I hoped that you like this chapter, and it's the last one that you'll be seeing following the originial plot of MW2. This means that from the next chapter onwards, you're gonna see a lot more of Ryuka than you're used to, if you're a new reader. If you have read the Red Dragon before, then you'll know that this is where the plot begins. Of course, the events during Loose Ends, The Enemy of my Enemy, Just Like Old Times and Endgame will remain the same. It's just that it will be very, very condensed.

And as I have said before, I appreciate your concern for other people flaming me, but if you would take this as an opportunity to do the same, then, why don't you just forget it. I'm such a stubborn b-word, am I not?


	14. Part 2: The Sundering

"You know, you can't blame MacTavish for sending you all the way to Dushanbe," Ghost told Ryuka as they started packing up the equipment they needed in the armory. Ryuka had taken an M4A1, an Intervention, and the ammo enough for a maximum of four days… If it was enough for four days, that is. "If I had a girl out here, that's what I'd do too."

She chuckled, and asked, "Are all men so block-headed?"

"Only the good ones, Reddie," Ghost replied. He did not say anything further. Whatever McTavish could have promised her, he would have already done so the night previous. He was sure of it. "I guess I'll be seeing you in Dushanbe, then."

"Take care of Roach, Ghost," Ryuka instructed. "I want him to live long enough to train another FNG." No matter what happened to Roach, he would always come back up on top. She did not want this time to be an exception. The Task Force 141, they were all her brothers, her friends, she did not wish to lose more of them, not at these times.

"You and I both, Reddie," he told her. There had been a strange bond between Ghost and Roach. The two of them had become inseparable ever since the kid entered the 141, and even until now, Ryuka could not find out why. They had completely different personalities, Ghost being dark, troubled and disturbed, while Roach was always a spot of sunshine… "Well, I gotta go," he said, and gave her a brotherly hug. "Good luck, Reddie."

Ryuka nodded. "You too, Ghost," she replied, and saw MacTavish at the doorway of the armory. The other Lieutenant nodded at their Captain and left, while MacTavish went in and immediately enveloped her in his arms. "John…" she murmured, the memories of the previous night were still fresh in her mind, and she had more than just the marks to prove it. He had left just before dawn to prepare for the mission, but not before waking her up first.

"Be careful," he told her. "We don't know what Makarov has in store in Dushanbe… Check your corners, and mind the children." They were sending her into an unknown territory and there would be a huge chance that Makarov could have pulled a fast one on them…

"I will, Captain," she promised. A kiss followed, one that was short, sweet and chaste. The time that they had left only allowed that, a different change from all their moments together, even right to the clothing that she was wearing... He was in a ghillie suit, while she, was in an ankle-length skirt and a modest blouse, suitable for a UNICEF volunteer in a Muslim country, with only a Desert Eagle holstered to her thigh (visible only to trained eyes) under her skirt as her only apparent weapon. Her katana and the other guns that she would bring to Dushanbe were all stored in luggage bags underneath her clothes.

MacTavish let her go, and the two of them walked towards their various helicopters hand in hand. "Hello there, Reddie," Nikolai greeted Ryuka. "Finally out there in the open, eh?" Ryuka smiled and nodded after sharing a knowing glance with MacTavish. "Don't worry, my friend, I will take care of Soap in time for you to slaughter him!"

"And don't you dare forget about Uncle Price, Nikolai," she replied, gesturing at her pseudo-uncle. "The old man needs some care as well." Price rolled his eyes and continued packing his equipment into Nikolai's Hercules. His goodbye with her was nothing more but a ruffle of her hair, but MacTavish and Nikolai knew that Price had meant much more than that, and Ryuka understood it more than they ever could.

"I will do all that you ask, do not worry," Nikolai replied. At that, they started to go to their different ways, Ryuka in a Little Bird, and the other two teams in their respective Hercules aircrafts. There was no parting prayer, no final briefing. All of them knew what they had to do, and they would see it done to the very end. The Task Force 141, they were a tight-knit bunch of soldiers, but sometimes, certain sentiments were not needed in times like this. Like in the case of Ryuka and MacTavish, everything had been done beforehand.

* * *

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Abraham's Light Orphanage – Dushanbe, Tajikistan

* * *

"Well, a graduate from the London School of Economics?" the Matron asked Ryuka when she looked at the credentials that she had brought with her. Some of them were real, the others, for the most part, had been forged. Like the fact that she was holding a Masters in Economics, and that she was looking for news for her "husband" who was a soldier. "You certainly don't look like you belong out here, dearie."

The Matron was a British woman, middle-aged and homely. A simple woman who served a higher cause: to help the nation's many orphans and whatnot. "I will do what I can," Ryuka said. And she knew for that long moment when the Matron had started at her thigh, that she was not envying her young, sprightly figure at all. Taking out the Desert Eagle, easily one of the larger pistols to be found, and was easily recognizable, due to its "superstar status" for being portrayed in various mass media, especially in the entertainment industry, Ryuka apologized, and said, "I'm sorry for this, but a girl has to protect herself in these awful times."

Thankfully, it seemed that the Matron understood her. "Yes, yes, it is," she replied. "The war in America… terrible, isn't it? Your parents… are they safe?" She had looked at Ryuka's passports and found out that she was Japanese-American, so it was not a shock that she would ask such a question. Duly, Ryuka told her that her family was safe in Kyoto; the Matron heaved a sigh of relief."

"This war will claim more lives than it ever has," Ryuka announced, and fell silent after that. She continued to make small talk with the Matron after sipping some tea that she had made, but there was nothing more.

"_Snipers in position…"_

"_Strike team go, engage Makarov on sight."_

Good, Ghost and the others were already at the safehouse… The operation would go well. "Well now, why don't I show you your room so you can rest up a bit?" the Matron offered. Ryuka smiled and thanked her. It would be a good time for her to monitor the progress of the 141 as well, and seek out information of her own.

"_Ambush! Targets… left side, left side!"_

"_They've got this area presighted for mortal fire!"_

"This is you'll be staying dearie," the Matron told her, and she nodded, trying to keep her cool. Her in-ear comms system had been concealed by her shoulder-length hair, and she put up her bags on the bed while she quickly retrieved the laptop that she had brought with her.

She waited for the Matron to leave, and quickly plugged in a microphone. "This is Red Dragon, Archer, Toad, take down those armored trucks, quick!" she exclaimed, watching two red dots moving away from the safehouse fast.

"Yes, ma'am," both of them replied. "Firing Javelin, danger close!"

Within seconds, the two dots were off the grid, and Ryuka heaved a sigh of relief. "Moving vehicles have been neutralized," Archer reported. "Be advised, we have not, I repeat, we have not spotted Makarov, and no one has left the house. Those trucks might have been decoys, over."

"Reddie, keep your eyes open," Ghost warned her. "If Makarov isn't here…"

"Copy that, Ghost," Ryuka said, loading her Desert Eagle. "You boys just keep moving. I'll do what I can here, don't worry."

Ghost acknowledged her words and continued on the mission. "We're advancing on the house now, breach and clear the safehouse, go, go!"

Ryuka took the Desert Eagle and holstered in back onto her thigh. Alone, she ventured into the compound, and looked around warily. The children were all doing their homework, she had seen them but a few minutes ago, having just come back from school and their lunch. She was about to report that there was nothing there out of the ordinary, while Price and Ghost convened about the situations on both their ends, when she heard the Matron speaking to someone else in her office.

"Yes… she's here," the Matron said. "No, sir, she came with only a gun. Nothing out of the ordinary…" Who was that woman reporting to? Perhaps it was the owner of the organization. "What, dangerous? That little angel? She's only just graduated with her Masters, how dangerous can she be? Yes… yes… I'll keep an eye on her."

"Red Dragon here. The Matron seems to be in contact with someone," Ryuka whispered hurriedly. "Someone knows that I'm here…"

She heard Price's voice next. "Stay down, Reddie," he told her. "Don't make it too obvious. Get off the comms, this is an order, sweetheart." She had no choice then, since Price made it an order. He had his reasons, for if she listened in any more, her actions could give her away immediately.

"Very well, Red Dragon out," Ryuka sighed. Before long, she felt someone tugging on her skirt; a little girl, no older than she had been when her parents left for the Bosnian-Kosovo war. "Hello there, young one. How can I help you?" she asked in Russian, the second most predominant language in Tajikistan, as well as many other former Soviet nations.

"Big sister, can you please help me?" the child asked her. "Sasha was mean and took away my books…"

Ryuka smiled, and took the child's hand. "Alright," she said, granting the little one's request. Inside, deep down inside, she hoped that everything would be alright, despite something that had been gnawing at her...

* * *

The night brought no answers to her at all. Nothing, apart from silence on Ghost's end, no reply from Roach, Archer or Toad… Something had happened, something terrible. She knew it from that sinking feeling that she had in her heart. "This is Red Dragon on all Task Force 141 frequencies…" she said on her first attempt. There was no answer from their landbase… "This is Red Dragon calling Bravo Five Alpha… Ghost, come in!" Still no response. "Bravo Six Alpha… Bravo Six Charlie… anyone!"

Alone in the night, when the children had all slept, she had began to prowl the compounds of the orphanage, with nothing at all. Her katana was now by her side, and it gave her a sense of security. It had never left her side ever since she had the clearance to wear it with her constantly, and she would not want to make a first exception… As she waited for a response from the 141, she continued to stalk the orphanage, which seemed more and more like an ordinary orphanage…

"Reddie!" she heard Price's voice. "Reddie, get out of there right now! We've been betrayed…" The quality of the comms started to deteriorate, and she was not able to catch what Price had said after that. "Soap… heavily injured… Ghost… Roach… dead… Nothing in Tajik… Run!"

There was too much interference; she could not hear a thing… But if they were betrayed... There was already nothing else that she could do, but to find her way to Price and MacTavish as quickly as she could… How she was going to do that was another question, but she knew that she had to trace their location, and get to them as soon as possible.

Unsheathing her katana, Ryuka walked back towards the orphanage. The Matron's office was still-lit, and she might as well tell the woman who she really was. It was a matter of life and death, and she hoped that the Matron would understand… "Mrs. White, are you in there?" she asked, knocking on the door to the Matron's office.

"Come in, dearie," the Matron answered. There was a stark change in the quality of her voice, Ryuka noted. She was afraid, someone else was in that office. Closing her eyes, she remembered the training that she had received in her childhood. She could sense it, another person, another Ki. This one was strong, consistent, the Ki of a warrior. "Don't be shy…"

Ryuka took a deep breath and entered the office. Sitting in the Matron's chair was a man in a dark suit. A man with black hair, a slightly unshaven face and heterochromic eyes… Eyes of green and blue. She had seen those eyes before. She had seen them a year ago in Pyongyang.

"Ah, Lieutenant Ryuka Algren," the man greeted kindly, even going so far as to kissing the ridges of her knuckles as a formal greeting. "You are indeed too kind to grace my humble orphanage with your presence, darling."

"Vladimir Makarov…"

* * *

HAN: And here it begins. Bring on the Makarov hotness! ^.^ And I admit, Ryuka is a bit of a Sue, so what if she is?


	15. Part 2: The Meeting

Ryuka had vowed to herself that she would destroy the man who dared to desecrate the lands of her ancestors. She had vowed to America that she would destroy the man that dared to incense the world's two greatest nations against one another. She had vowed to her ancestors, and the bodies of her brothers, she had vowed to kill him and spray his blood upon their graves.

Unsheathing her katana, she pointed its sharp tip against his neck. The children and Mrs. White were all locked into the rooms, far away from the office and the compounds. They would not need to see what would follow, they did not need to see bloodshed and pain so early in their young lives.

Like that night in Pyongyang, she had used her katana. It had been her very first reaction, one that came from her heart. "You are under arrest," she said, her dark eyes piercing his heterochromic ones. "For international terrorism, and starting the Russo-American war."

Makarov looked at her and smirked. "Do you not know any fear, darling?" he asked her, walking ever closer to her katana. "It grips you, takes every single hair of your being…" Still she was unmoving; still, she held her katana straight, with both hands upon the handle… Still she was standing there, a soldier, more than anything else. "You are the Lieutenant of the Task Force 141… But you are not the only one."

Ghost… There had always been the two of them. And now, she did not even know of his fate. Shepherd had betrayed them, Price and MacTavish… A tear fell down her face, and Makarov could see it perfectly beneath the florescent lights. She was a soldier, she should not have shown such weakness…

"Your fear is not for yourself," Makarov continued, wiping the tear off with his thumb. "It is for those who had claimed your heart: your brothers, Price, and that Captain of yours… MacTavish, I believe his name is…" He lowered her katana, and brought his cheek close to hers. "They were all betrayed, by the one man that you were ordered to trust. I would think that there is no need for me to elaborate further."

Ryuka was no fool. She knew what happened now, she knew it clearly. Shepherd and Makarov had worked together to bring the war between America and Russia, and he had sent half the Task Force 141 after the DSM, where he would kill them off slowly, team by team. "Your Captains, they have killed Shepherd," Makarov told her. "While you, darling…"

"I am nothing more than a prize of war," she concluded. At that moment of time, there were no tears in her black eyes, only pain, only anger. Makarov knew those emotions well. She would strike at any moment, and he would be ready. He had been ready for her for at least a year.

However, Ryuka did not use her katana. Oh, on the contrary, she sheathed the weapon instead. She remembered that he could see through her attacks, and opted for something a little more traditional. Her Desert Eagle, it was still holstered to her thigh, and just as he was able to bring his fingers around her arm, she cocked it and brought it to his temple. "Do not touch me…" she warned him. She had nowhere to run… Nowhere to go and she knew that she might as well take him with her. "Move."

* * *

Indeed, the Red Dragon was more than a force to behold. Cornered, and before the man that had hunted her, she was still so defiant, still so strong. Makarov moved as she did, and they had gotten to the center of the compound, where the eyes of the children were all fixed upon them. In their eyes, he was a different man. In those innocent eyes, he was the one who stopped by every two weeks or so, sometimes three, to play with them and tell them stories for a few days. He would bring those big, muscular men to repair the orphanage and bring them gifts and toys. He would help them with their schoolwork when he found time. He was not an evil man like those fighting in the neighboring Afghanistan.

Their new caretaker, it seemed to them, was a bad woman. She was pointing a gun to his head, and he had nothing in his defense… The eyes of the children were innocent, but they were only innocent because they did not know the truth. "Would you kill an unarmed man?" Makarov asked her, rather absently. "Or, would you scar these children forever by killing me in front of them?"

Those threats had been empty. She was like him now, a soldier, without an army. And in those times, she could have done everything, and she could have done anything. Makarov knew it, and thus, he waved his arm. A gunshot could he heard, and in an instant, the Red Dragon collapsed onto the floor. Some had shot her in the ankle, one of his agents, concealed by the shadows of the night.

"Monster!" she cursed, wincing in pain. Blood began to flow through the wound, but it was not life-threatening, not at all. But at any rate, she had been unable to stand, and clutched at her wound, hissing as she tried to move. Makarov stood over her, and bent down.

"I have been called many names, darling, but you are the first one to call me that," he told her, stroking her red hair. Ah, there they were… The silly girl had thought that she could conceal her communication devices just by pulling her hair to cover her ears… "Now, let us see who I can contact with this…"

* * *

MacTavish howled in pain. The doctor had just extracted a round lodged at his side, which narrowly missed his internal organs, and had been suspended in muscle and tissue. After he had killed Shepherd, Nikolai had flown him and Price to the Médecins Sans Frontières, known as the Doctors without Borders, where they could receive medical attention without any fear of persecution.

"Forgive me, sir," said the German doctor rather apologetically. "We are out of stronger anesthetics. But you are lucky indeed that you are so well-built… Should you have lesser muscle mass, you would already be a dead man."

In truth, MacTavish did not even know how he had gotten shot at all. In his mind, his only wound had been where Shepherd had lodged a combat knife into his chest. As a last resort, he had pulled out the very same knife and hurled it at the man whose orders he had once followed. Remembering the countless lives that had been wasted for Shepherd's own selfish vengeance, he took aim, and his aim had been true. The knife had landed right in the General's eye, killing him instantly.

"Thanks," MacTavish groaned, shutting his eyes as the nurses quickly bandaged him. He was told that he had to remain immobile for at least several weeks, so that the numerous stitches on his body would not be ripped apart. However, he knew that he had not the time. He would give himself a few more days, and then, he'll have to get to Dushanbe in all due speed.

The Task Force 141 had been briefed more than enough times prior from splitting up. They would all meet up in Dushanbe with Ryuka when their part had been done. He had just hoped that Ryuka was not the only one from the 141 that was there in the capital city of Tajikistan… Deep down, some part of him wished that there were those who survived the purges that the Shadow Company had rained upon them.

"Soap…" that would be Price, and from the tone of his voice, he would not like whatever Price was going to tell him. "Ryuka managed to contact us, she's still in Dushanbe."

Relief instantly washed over MacTavish. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that his idea of sending her there had been a correct one. However, when he opened his eyes again, all he could see was the same concerned expression on Price's face. "What happened?" MacTavish asked, his heart immediately going to Ryuka.

"Makarov has her," Price said, after a deep sigh.

* * *

"Do whatever you want with me, leave Uncle Price and MacTavish alone!" Ryuka shouted, trying her level best to stand, despite the pain she had been feeling. She was trained to withstand any single level of physical pain, and with the support of her katana, she had almost succeeded.

Makarov, on the other hand, smirked. "And I intend to do so, darling," he told her. The Russian snaked his arms around her shoulders, and closed his eyes. Yes, this was the scent that he had caught in Pyongyang. Her hair, it had been longer, but it did not matter now. "I have no use for the two of them," said, "But you… you are different."

"I am no more different than they are," she rebuked. "All of us want you dead. It is only then when the reign of terror that you had caused will end."

Her words, they only succeeded in making Makarov laugh. "And if I am dead, Ryuka, who would clear the names of the 141?" he asked her, looking into those black eyes that held fire and lightning. "I am the only person in the world who knew what Shepherd has done, and only I can prove it. He thinks that he could retrieve all of my files and destroy them, but he is mistaken."

_Do you think that this is the only one?_

The last Russian that she had tortured was one of Makarov's most trusted men. He had an external hard drive carrying files related to the attack on Zakhaev International Airport. It had not been the only copy, meaning that Makarov had been prepared for any eventuality. If this had been done for only one mission, there was no telling what he could have done with all the information that he had.

That smirk on Makarov's face never even left him when she had stopped struggling. "Let us not waste time, darling," he said, placing a hand on the side of her face ever so gently. "I do not enjoy seeing you in so much pain. We shall make an exchange, shall we not? One that both you and I can gain from."

"And what is tha-" she had been unable to continue her words, for Makarov had pressed his lips against hers, supporting her body in his arms. It had been tentative at first, for he needed to feel her again, to see if what he had tasted a year ago had been similar. And when he was satisfied with the results, he deepened the kiss, despite her attempts to throw him off her. Tightly, he grasped her wrist until she had been forced to drop her katana, and dropped his tongue into her mouth.

Infuriated, Ryuka slapped him with what strength she had, it was what she could only do to get him off her. However, it seemed to have only strengthened his resolve. And this time, he raised two fingers in the air and brought them down. White light filled her vision as she felt another bullet being lodged into her body. This time, it was her shoulder, and the blood from her wound splattered even onto Makarov's suit.

"I do not wish to hurt you, darling," Makarov warned her. "The two of us are more similar than you can imagine. I know what lurks in your heart, Ryuka, it is power, and it is vengeance. I am the one who ordered the burning of the Kyoto Mountains, I am the one who killed those civilians in Zakhaev International Airport, and I am the one who gave al-Asad that nuclear warhead… But you already know this. What you do not know is why, darling. Why would I undergo such lengths to create so much chaos in this beautiful world."

"Because you are nothing but a bloodthirsty, soulless megalomaniac who justifies every act of blood with every single wrong to you by the world," Ryuka replied. "You cannot see the world in peace, nor can you stand a second of it."

At those words, Makarov chuckled. "And you do, my darling Ryuka?" he asked her in return. "'There_ can never be peace before war_,' those words had been uttered by the ancestors of your line, am I not correct?" Ryuka did not respond. She would not respond. "Your ancestors, all women, had waged war against the daimyo of Japan to unify her under one single banner, and in the 1800s, they managed to secure the Emperor Meiji as the sole ruler of Japan, wrestling power from the Shogun. The Algrens, their descendants, had all proposed to the American presidents of their time to join the Second World War even before Pearl Harbor was destroyed… No, darling, you and your ilk cannot stand to see the world in peace as well."

By then, she could not say anything in reply. The searing pain from her wounds, doubled with her efforts to stand, had been too great to handle. "We… would not stop… hunting you down…" she managed to stay, hissing in pain as Makarov held her closer to his own body.

"And let us see whether two dead men can do anything," Makarov said. He snapped his fingers, and a man brought him a laptop. Upon the screen, were MacTavish and Price, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The rest of them had seem fearful and afraid, but there were two medical officers who were wielding M9s, both pointed towards the two Captains. "Ah, the Captains of the Task Force 141, I trust that you are doing well with the Doctors without Borders?"

"Makarov…" MacTavish groaned. "Leave Reddie alone, she doesn't have anything to do with you!" Ryuka saw his image, and was unable to stop her hands from covering her mouth. He was already heavily wounded, struggling even to speak. "Reddie, get away from him, run!" A gunshot was heard from their end, and MacTavish roared in pain. He had been shot in the leg by Makarov's agents there…

"John!" she exclaimed, only managing to aggravate her own wounds. Price had been next, and was shot at the arm.

Makarov clicked his tongue. From their expressions alone, he could tell that she was in love with MacTavish, and that love had been returned. "Ah, young love," he praised, caressing her jawline in front of MacTavish. "It is magical indeed, especially from a warrior so restive like the Red Dragon… I will give you a choice, Ryuka, you will come with me, or you would see your beloved Captain and Uncle perish right before your eyes."

That was not much of a choice. Ryuka knew that however unwilling she had been, from that moment on, she had to submit to Makarov's every whim. Silently she nodded, and Makarov sealed that pact with another kiss, just for MacTavish and Price to see. However, she was able to lift up her fingers to the webcam on the laptop, and convey a message that MacTavish could only know before Makarov ended the kiss and ended the transmission.

* * *

"Fight another day…" MacTavish repeated verbally what Ryuka had signed to him in the sign language that they had used to non-verbally to communicate with their snipers. "Forgive me…"

He was the most useless man in the world. Not only had he failed to protect and defend his unit twice, he had deliberately delivered the woman he loved into Makarov's hands himself… "Soap, don't blame yourself," Price advised him after the genuine doctors were done with their new wounds. "Ryuka knows what to do, and by the time we can get out of here, we'll follow her and take that bastard down like the mad dog he is."

MacTavish could only nod to his words. And Price, he could only hope that things could not get any worse from then on.

* * *

HAN: I thank WHS72 and Ecto1b for their lovely reviews, as well as Reznov for that brilliant quote. Virtual mini katanas for those who could spot it! Psst, its from Black Ops. ^.^


	16. Part 2: The Prize of War

She must be dreaming. From the very first moment she had opened her eyes, she found herself to be in a posh hotel, dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, her wounds dressed and bandaged, her katana leaning on the bedside table… She could feel the presence of a man, but it had not been familiar to her. It was not the strong, lingering Ki that she knew belonged to MacTavish, nor had it been the erratic flares and bursts that belonged to Ghost… This one was ever-present, but could only be felt if she tried, like the last burning embers of a once-great fire too stubborn to burn itself out.

The Desert Eagle that she had holstered to her thigh was gone, and so were her comms. It was then when she knew that she could not be possibly in any form of friendly territory. "I see that you are already awake, darling, you had been out cold for three days…" there was that voice again… Makarov. Why the hell would he even bring her to a hotel? Upon the sight of him, she stepped back towards the bedside table where her katana was, and took it in her hand. "You don't have to worry, no one would hurt you here, unless you so wished it."

"And this came from the person who had me shot twice in front of children and a fearful woman," Ryuka retorted, unsheathing her weapon. "Where the hell am I?" she demanded, her voice rising as she lost her patience. It was not fear that gripped her, it was anger; Anger that stemmed from her own failure to take him down, at her own weakness, anger for what he had done to her family, to her organization, her brothers, and her country. That anger could never be erased, nor could it be ever forgotten.

Makarov sighed. "If you must know, see for yourself," he said to her, still as gentle as ever. It seemed that he had been utterly incapable of anger, or, he had been a naturally calm person… Taking her by the wrist, he led her to the balcony and pulled open the curtains. Night had already fallen, but the skyline, it was unmistakable.

Bustling almost to the point of noisiness, she could see a telecommunications tower on the opposite bank of the river, several spheres, connected by a straight line… The Pearl Tower… On the same bank, she could see the advert boards of LG, Nestle, Citibank, and many more global corporations… "Shanghai…" Ryuka proclaimed. They were in a hotel in Shanghai, overlooking the Huangpu River… "Why have you brought me here, of all the places in the world?" she asked him, bewilderment filling her the more she thought about it.

"When both America and Russia are at war, this is the safest place on Earth," Makarov replied simply. "China has always been an ally of Russia, and more importantly, she turns a blind eye to those who can give her what she wants, when she wants it." So, he had some sort of a deal with China. That was… comforting, somehow or other. "Besides, I own the hotel." The widened look of confusion when she heard those words was utterly unforgettable.

"A Russian terrorist, laundered his money by buying an Italian hotel in Shanghai?" Ryuka asked with a raised eyebrow. She had seen from the matchboxes on another side-table, the hotel was named La Dragone d'Oro, the Golden Dragon, an apt name for a hotel in China, where dragons were favored as symbols of good luck and better fortune.

Makarov chuckled at her obliviousness to it all. "Actually, I bought this as an investment," he replied, "It serves a higher purpose as well…" Once again, he took her back into the room, and brought her right before the fireplace. There was a door next to it, and it looked like one of those doors that linked to hotelrooms together. But when he opened it with a highly normal-looking key, an armory was revealed, three stories high, filled with weapons more than the eyes could see and the mind could count. "Once upon a time, I used to control the weapons black market in China, and these were all but souvenirs of my former ventures."

"No wonder Rojas would do almost everything for you…" Ryuka muttered. "You practically backed him and his operations."

However, Makarov begged to differ. "I would prefer the term, outsourced, on that fool's case, darling," he said, and led her into the armory. "I brought you here, because I have a small… request that I would ask of you." To that, Ryuka knew that she had no way out. He had his men literally watching Price and MacTavish at all times, and if she would not toe the line that he had set, their lives would be in danger… She had to do whatever he asked her to, no matter how unwilling she was. Thus, he continued without waiting for any response from her. "There is to be a diamond exhibition here in Shanghai in a week, and I have been contacted by General Lee to act as a security contractor for his appearance that night."

"And you will have some arms deal with him during the after-party," Ryuka finished for him, rolling her eyes. Makarov smirked, and nodded. "Vladimir Makarov, for a terrorist, you're awfully predictable. That man is the most corrupt man in China, and even we couldn't incarcerate him no matter what China tried, who else would shelter you if not Lee?" she asked him.

"Darling, do not jump to such hasty conclusions," Makarov said, putting a finger on her lips. "This arms deal is absolutely essential to our final goal…" He would not tell her what it was at the moment, but somehow, she knew that it had something to do with the current Ultranationalist government… And she knew that whatever it might have been, she would not enjoy it one bit. "You will know of it soon enough. But now, I need you to…"

He whispered several words into her ear, words that made her grow hot with a mixture of anger, loathing, and downright defiance. "I will not submit to this!" she exclaimed, backing away from him. "I have not fought for five years to become your arm candy, and/or accomplice! I am a soldier, the Lieutenant of the Task Force 141!"

"Or would you rather I remind you the effects of your noncompliance?" Makarov demanded coolly. He looked into those eyes and he saw the same fire that he had seen that night in Pyongyang. Her strengths were ironically, her weaknesses as well, and once he had a hold of them, he would have mastery over her. Those two Captains were still safe with the Doctors without Borders, but for how long, it depended entirely on her.

Ryuka took the nearest weapon that she could reach, a mini-Uzi, and said, "There are only the two of us here, I could just kill you and be done with it." Makarov chuckled, and took another step forwards.

"Nothing will help you if my blood is spilled upon Chinese soil, and you know it," he replied, easily wrenching the mini-Uzi out of her hand. Throwing it onto the floor, he got hold of her by her waist and said, "If they find out that you are one of the Task Force 141, they will have you deported back to America, where Shepherd's lies are still prevalent, and you will be silenced within seconds with no chance of survival. Japan will only sit there and watch you burn…"

He was right. She needed him alive, and she needed to find her own way to take him down. She had said it herself; she had fought for five years to bring him to justice. Even if she had to pay that price with her own life, by the Gods, she would do it. She no longer had her brothers behind her; she no longer had MacTavish or Price. Alone, and cornered by that beast that had haunted her as she had done the same to him, she had to make a decision and she had to make it quick.

"Very well," she told him. "I would do as you wish…"

Makarov smiled, and kissed her forehead. "I knew that you would be cooperative, darling…"

And then, Ryuka cut him off mid-sentence again. "Please, do not call me that," she pleaded him. She was not used to such forms of address, not when MacTavish would only call her name in their most intimate moments. She did not want Makarov to be able to have such a distinct privilege… However, she also knew that he would just continue to do it, just because he could.

"As you have said in Dushanbe," he reminded her, "You are my prize of war…" He did not speak further, but leaned inwards to kiss her. It had been different than the ones before, they had been of conquest, of dominance. This time, he took his time, exploring her, savoring that slightly exotic taste of her. It had been different than the one in Pyongyang as well, when she had been desperate to rejoin her teammates… "I can do whatever I want with you, because you would do everything for those that you love."

This time, Ryuka was able to do what she so wished with him. Just as he let her go, she slapped him and went back towards the suite silently. If she had been just a woman, Makarov would have easily given her the retribution that she had so deserved, but he decided to let it slide this time. She had been under a tremendous amount of stress lately. Her actions were completely justified…

* * *

Shanghai was a beautiful city, despite its likeness to the Western metropolises like New York, Paris, London and whatnot. It had its own charm, its own grace and its own cares. In the 1930s, it had been where vicious gangs fought one another, and now, it was the financial heart of China. There were many Chinese greats that came from this city, the Maglev train that linked the heart of the city to Pudong International Airport, the Bund, the Pearl Tower… If only she had come here on her own will, she would have enjoyed this city greatly.

There in Shanghai, she looked like just another person. Red hair was not uncommon with women of Asian complexions, what with the easiness of dyeing one's hair color. The only difference was that now, she was not free, not like the millions of passersby walking the Bund at that moment.

"Hello there, pretty little miss," an old lady greeted her, to whom she responded with a polite nod. "Would you like to have your fortune read?" It could be a ploy for the tourists, but Ryuka decided to go along with it anyways. With a week to the night of the exhibition, and Makarov nowhere in sight, she might as well.

She walked towards the old lady's stall, a humble set of a table and two chairs, strewn with papers filled with Chinese characters that she could read, but make no sense of. The old lady took a good look on her right palm and started to furrow her brow. "What is it?" Ryuka asked in Mandarin, with no knowledge of the local Shanghainese dialect.

"You're trained to do what you are doing all your life," the old lady said, "And you have many friends and a stable love-life… But, look here…" She indicated a line where one of the lines in the center of Ryuka's palm had been broken. "Your career line is broken, so evidently, and it continues to be as long as your lifeline… You must be at a crossroads now, my dear. You'll have to choose carefully. This is because you are the best in all that you set your heart to, and because you are so stubborn, you will not even look back."

* * *

A crossroads? A choice?

* * *

Ryuka had made her choice a long time ago, that she would serve as a soldier, like her father and mother. She had seen the terrors of Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, and now, Vladimir Makarov, she had always decided, according to the words of her ancestors, that in a world where warfare was rampant, the only way peace would prevail was to end that war with war itself…

"And oh yes," the old woman continued. "There will be two men that you must choose as well, each of them standing at either side of the crossroads that I've mentioned. One is he that you know, and who knows you, while the other, would be one who shares a great history with you, but you have never met, until now… You will have to choose between them, just as you have to choose the path that you must take…"

Ryuka smiled and paid the old woman accordingly. She could sense Makarov walking towards her, and when she looked up she saw him, carrying a polystyrene container with a few holes poked on the top. "Forgive me to have kept you waiting, darling," he told her after kissing her forehead lightly, despite knowing the fact that she could retaliate without a second's notice. "But these Xiao Long Baos are to die for."

Whoever Makarov was, Ryuka found out that she could not understand him. Right before her was the former heir of Imran Zakhaev after the death of his son, Viktor Zakhaev, the leader of the Ultranationalist terrorist cell, and he was handing her Xiao Long Bao with disposable chopsticks. Had the world turned upside down when she was still under the effects of the anesthesia administered to her but three days ago?

Makarov chuckled. He knew where her confusion came from. "Darling, there are many things about me that you have not known," he told her. "Just as much as I have much to learn about you, the fiery Red Dragon of the Task Force 141…"

* * *

HAN: All right, Makarov takes a starring role now. As I have said, this is a modified rewrite of the previous Red Dragon, where certain parts of the original plot may return, and certain parts, may not. All the landmarks in Shanghai exist in the real world, except for the hotel Makarov owns, because I've been there and you can easily Google them. Xiao Long Bao are Chinese steamed buns with pork and soup in them, and are native to Shanghai. ^.^ And yes, as you can see, both Makarov and Ryuka can speak Chinese.

Oh yeah, a question for all of you: how soon would you guys want to see the Makarov X Ryuka lemon?

P.S: Please review this chapter if you're reading it, because I really need an answer to plan for the following chapters. ^.^ Or, you could PM me as well.

Thanks guys!


	17. Part 2: The Parted Souls

"_Execute Protocol Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo…"_

_It was a harsh storm in the very heart of Siberia, when the howling wind had been their only comfort. They were cornered, the members of the Task Force 141 sent into an Ultranationalist base to retrieve some data that would prove to tip the scales in their favor, but in the process, they had alerted more than just the guards, but also nearby outposts. Luckily, they had it all planned out. _

_Even before they had infiltrated the base, they had planted C4 next to the power generator, where the explosion would most likely affect the entire base, and even more around the perimeter. With no escape route, they would have to blow up the place to bring confusion to their enemies, which would hopefully, enable them to find a way out of the messy predicament they had gotten themselves into. _

_The order had come from Shepherd, and Ghost repeated it to the rest of the boys. "Alright boys, you heard the man, Protocol Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo, forty seconds, go!" He turned towards the entrance and found MacTavish and Ryuka emerging from the base, with triumphant looks on their faces. "Have you got the files?" Ryuka nodded while MacTavish reloaded the UMP that he had in his hands. "Well, it's blow this place up."_

"_Have you no inkling that we would be in the center when this place blows up?" Ryuka asked Ghost rather incredulously. Well, Ghost was slightly disturbed anyways. Because the base was so wide, their best bet was to huddle as closely as they could, figuratively, and hope for the best. _

"_I don't think that you have a better idea, Reddie," Ghost told her, a smile evident even under his balaclava. He then turned towards MacTavish and said, "Sir, C4 is ready to detonate."_

_MacTavish nodded, and said, "Bring the rain, and make sure that you make a huge bang."_

"_Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo in progress, danger close."

* * *

_

A bittersweet smile graced Ryuka's features when she remembered that day when they had first used Protocol Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo. And now, nothing could ever bring her out of the cage that she had been trapped into. Oh, what she would not give to use some C4 to blow herself out of the blasted hotel, but now, in a world where she, Price and MacTavish were considered criminals of war by the US, she had literally nowhere to run to.

When she closed her eyes, she saw for a second time the magnificent explosion that had happened all around them. The flames were a deep red, while the scent of ash and smoke filled the air, their nostrils, and even in the rain, the ground beneath them quickly turning into mud, there had been nothing brighter than the fires that followed that explosion. MacTavish had taken her hand in his that night, for the very first time. She did not know if he would remember that time, but she did…

And when she opened her eyes again, she was in a designer outlet in Shanghai, far from the Task Force 141 landbase, far from their submarine, far from the bodies of her dead teammates, far from Price and MacTavish. There she was, standing before an ornate full-length mirror, flocked by countless salesgirls fawning over her and Makarov. There she was, the strange woman who had "captured" the eyes of the equally mysterious owner of the Hotel La Dragone d'Oro.

Subconsciously, she dropped her hand to the left side of her waist, and found nothing there. Her katana had been left in the private suite that Makarov had in the hotel… "You look absolutely beautiful," a man's voice whispered into her ear, but not the heavy, Scottish baritone that she had been so used to hearing. Instead, it was a heavily accented Russian, light, but dark in tonality and quality.

She looked at her reflection, and found nothing. Nothing but a woman, broken in the surface, but burning with the need to fight back, even if the current situation did not allow her to. But in Makarov's eyes, she was something entirely different. Decked out in diamonds and sapphires, she was dressed in a black gown that seemed to have been made just for her, it highlighted almost every single concavity and convexity upon her body, shaped by the will of Nature, and her experience in war. "We cannot see eye to eye then," she proclaimed. The feel of his cold fingers around her shoulders was something that she could never get used to, and turned away from him.

"Leave us," Makarov told the salesgirls silently and faced her. "Do you doubt that you are a beautiful woman?" he asked her, tipping her chin, but she just swatted his hand off from her field of vision. Yet, in truth, Ryuka's beauty was something that he had discovered much later, when he had reminisced on their meeting in Pyongyang again and again. What had struck him was her spirit, which she still had.

"How I look does not matter, does it?" she asked him in return, taking off the diamond necklace and the earrings. She remained silent, and moved back into the fitting room. Her dark eyes, they did not look back at him, but he followed her gaze nevertheless. "Makarov…"

Once again, against her will, Makarov kissed her. He backed her towards the interior of the fitting room and closed the door. And in his kiss, there was hunger, there was passion, but he was not MacTavish. There was not even a hint of emotion, not a single particle of joy and bliss, not even in a gesture as intimate as this. And yet, they knew every single move the other had made in these five years… But he knew that this was the best way to break her, to mold her into something more of use to him.

If he had thrown her into a dark cell, tortured like how she had tortured his men, she would remain nothing but the fiery Lieutenant of the Task Force 141, she would still remain a steadfast soldier, and she would have killed herself before he could do anything. But if he had placed her in a gilded cage like this one, she would crumble into nothingness, and in her despair, she would be willing to do anything for just that hint of freedom. That was when she would be utterly ready for him, and that was when he would strike at the heart of his enemies.

"Remember this, darling," he told her when the kiss broke, "You are mine." Those black eyes stared at him in anger, and he enjoyed every moment of it. "You are more beautiful when you are angered, Ryuka," he praised, and kissed her on her forehead before leaving the fitting room for her to change back into her own clothes.

* * *

"_What the hell were you thinking?" MacTavish roared the moment he was alone in the infirmary with Ryuka. Even after it had been several hours since they had returned from that particularly hard mission, he had not the time to confront her on her rather dubious methods of getting them out of a particularly hot exfil point. _

_Ryuka glared at MacTavish. "Captain, did we not all get out of that blasted base safely?" she demanded, her right leg being encased in a concrete cast notwithstanding. After they had executed Protocol Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo, they had wound up into an almost broken-down warehouse. And with almost the entire Russian horde at their tail, she had quickly pushed them out and shot the beams of the already weakened structure. The warehouse had crumbled instantly, and Ryuka had barely escaped, save being pinned down by a few pieces of debris, which broke her leg. _

_MacTavish was oblivious. "I almost lost you back there, Ryuka!" he exclaimed, looking all the more intimidating to those who knew him not. MacTavish had been a man of moderate words, but one of definite action… It was rare that he was moved to use words that expressed anything… _

_However, the Red Dragon was never one to be taken lightly. "And why would you even care, John?" she asked him, black eyes still unyielding. In the two years of the foundation of the Task Force 141, it had seemed like she had known this man for all her life. And to top it all off, he was once a subordinate of Captain Price, she had been sure that he held the key to the Captain's last location… _

"_Do you really wanna know?" MacTavish asked her, his voice returning to its usual tone. He had been dangerously close to her, their foreheads touching in mid-air. Oh, times like these between the two of them were many, but it had never felt so… tender before. Before she could even respond, MacTavish took her face in both his hands and kissed her then and there, however, when he had done so, he had utterly no intention to bed her at all, a change that both shocked and intrigued her. "I think I love you…"_

_Ryuka said nothing, but smiled, it was the most brilliant smile that he had seen (until after Price came to the 141). "Well, that changes everything," she replied after yet another kiss, which had been similar in quality as the first one. "Dougan desu, Taichou, aishiteru."  
_

_MacTavish found out later that it meant that she had felt the same way as well, and that she loved him...  


* * *

_

That day seemed like an eternity ago, when Vladimir Makarov had been nothing but a shadow, when Roach was not yet even the FNG..._

* * *

_

"Jiji, is that really you?"

MacTavish thought he was hallucinating. Was that Ryuka's voice he was hearing all of a sudden? Heck, even the two "doctors" that Makarov had planted into the MSF started to react towards the presence of the owner of that voice. But when he looked up from where he had been lying down on, careful not to rip his stitches, he found that the woman right before him and Price was not Ryuka, despite the haunting similarities.

Just like Ryuka, she was of medium height, and perfect build, and like Ryuka, she was wearing a catsuit, armed with a gun and a katana. But this woman, she had hazel eyes instead of black ones, and her hair was black. This must be her sister, Ryurei.

Price nodded and hugged the newcomer. "Good to see you, Blackie," he said to her, and she smiled. Gods, she even looked like Ryuka when she smiled. "Soap, this is Ryurei Algren, Reddie's older sister. She works for the CIA-UN Intel network," he turned to MacTavish, who shook her hand. "Ryurei, this is…"

"Captain John "Soap" MacTavish," she finished for Price. "Your reputation precedes you, Captain. However, we don't have time for such pleasantries. My sister is in the hands of Vladimir Makarov, and we have Intel that he is planning something even bigger than starting a war between Russia and America."

"How sure are we that we can trust you?" MacTavish asked Ryurei. "You could be sent here to kill us for all we know."

Ryurei chuckled, reminding him of Ryuka again. "Whether or not you can trust me isn't relative to what you need to do right now," she said to him. "In three more days, Makarov is going to attend Asia's biggest diamond exhibition in Shanghai masquerading as a security contractor. Our sources have information that he is in cahoots with China's most corrupt general, and they're in talks of negotiating another arms deal."

"And you want us to stop that deal?" Price asked Ryurei, who shook her head.

"We believe that the arms deal is only the icing on the cake, but we don't know what it is," she replied. Makarov may have been highly careful when planning out his operations, but it all had the same generic pattern. He would use one operation to cover another bigger, more sinister one. The current war, and everything that it had entailed, could only be a cover, because Makarov was still not stopping at the least… He was still on the move, and he had "recruited" more to his side. "The man who sold you out, Lt. Gen. Shepherd, he gave Ryuka-chan to Makarov as a 'war-prize', because she's the best in what she does."

Ryuka had been famous in the Task Force 141 for being a deadly sniper, and more importantly, her methods of _information extraction_, so to speak. "So who does Makarov want to kill this time?" MacTavish asked.

"That is what you need to find out, however, with your injuries, Captain, it is almost impossible to even get down from that bed," Ryurei said, her tone of voice taking a grim mood. The man had been stabbed in the chest, and he had pulled the same knife out almost immediately… That was no feat that common men could even try. Having said that, she looked around the room and pressed a sachet of tablets into MacTavish's hand. "The CIA is in the middle of formulating a superdrug for high-value, but injured field-men like you, so I figured that you might want to try it."

Price was about to stop MacTavish from taking such a risk, but the younger Captain just took one and swallowed it without a second's notice. He was unconscious in the next blink of an eye, but when the genuine doctors came in to check on him, they remarked that a catalyst seemed to have sparked a tremendous change in his body, which began to repair itself at an almost superhuman rate…

"Incredible, isn't it?" Ryurei asked Price as the Captain continued to sleep. "Oba-chan was right; this man really does love Ryuka-chan…" She had not been in Kyoto when the Chinese and the Ultranationalists defiled their ancestral mountain, being on a mission in West Africa busting the private army of yet another government official working with drug cartels, so she had not seen how he would have worked with Ryuka in the field… "The human mind works in strange ways… That freaking pill was just a placebo."

* * *

HAN: Forgive my horrible Japanese ! ^.^ and thanks for the kind reviews, they really made my day.


	18. Part 2: The Solace He Brings

The stroke of her katana fell once, twice, three times… four… seven… twenty… Stroke after stroke after stroke, she continued, going through set after set after set of movements, known as kata, she started the series of steps that she had learnt since she was but a child. The area had been particularly empty, a ballroom which she had found to be unlocked, and those, she snuck in, and found the light switch.

After four days of mundane appearances throughout the city of Shanghai, all spent under the watchful eyes of Makarov, something within her snapped. If she did not continue in her old routines, she would soon go mad. In the happier days of the past, she would rise early in the morning to go through the ancient style of her ancestors, remembering their teachings, remembering why she was there, at that moment in time.

Ryuka had not always been trained to fight. She, like all the Daughters of the Dragon, she had a choice. Even the Algrens, although famous for their military endeavors, had a choice. Her grandmother had once hoped that she and her sister would take on normal lives, far away from the horrors and the pain that war would bring, but the two of them had taken similar, yet different paths; Paths that they had chosen for themselves, paths that they still continued to walk.

Unlike MacTavish, Ryuka was not a simple soldier at all. Even in her early years, she had sought to differentiate herself from all the others, to make a name for herself in the world of men, and of high expectations. When she had underwent her military training, she had chosen the two ends of the spectrum in a wide range of skills that should belong to any Special Forces unit, to be a sniper, and a Black Ops specialist, and she knew that it was why she was in the Task Force 141.

And now, it seemed like everything that she had fought for, had come to a standstill. She was now caged, trapped by the one man she had sought to defeat and to bring to the light, a deep irony that she could not get her head over… Makarov had her trapped in that gilded cage, while she was yet to find a way to escape it. Was this how she would meet her end? After all these years of trying to seek peace for the world, only to be a plaything for a terrorist whose iron grip was reaching further and further into the world?

The Dragon's Hammer, it had been a technique that had never failed her. But it did a year ago, and she could not even fathom why… it was as if he had known how she would attack… And when she had delivered that double strike, he could already see through the attack, and was able to defend himself perfectly.

Still, it did not matter. She had to be patient. Her chance would come one day, and she would repay everything that he had done to her, and she would have him pay that price manifold… Once again, she went through her kata, a certain calm starting to take her, offering her a little solace from all the hurts of the world that she had seen. "Ken wa kioki… Kenjutsu wa satsujin no jutsu…" she repeated the words of her ancestors, and let her mind transport her back to the green plain in the mountains, where it had all began. [The sword is a weapon of murder, kenjutsu is the skill of murder]

* * *

"There you are, darling, I have been looking all over for you…"

Without even thinking, Ryuka got into a different stance. This time, her katana was turned upwards, extended as far as she could reach, and her left arm held above it to guide its direction. Her father had told her that this attack was one that did not belong to the ancestors of their line. It had been adapted into their style from a great ally that had helped the founding mother of the Algren line, and did not have a name for that reason, but was rarely utilized, due to a myriad of reasons. One of them was that it needed range, and a wide area of space. In modern times, it was completely useless, because a bullet would have gotten to the user to this technique even before they could attack the others.

However, this did not change the fact that Makarov was unarmed and unescorted at that point. Filled with a certain rage, she aimed that attack towards him, and could have almost succeeded, if he had not managed to parry in time. Ryuka looked at him, breathing deeply as the initial shock of her failure and the strain on her body due to the sudden use of high amounts of energy took over her. "I was caught up… in the tales of my ancestors…" she panted for a few moments, and used her katana to help her stand after slapping his hand away when he offered it to her.

And when she had recovered from that attack, he brought an arm around her waist and started to kiss her, causing her to drop her weapon, which he kicked away, far, far away from them. He gave her no time to react, no time to respond, only demanding that she returned the gesture. His tongue, it skimmed over the arch of her neck and the curve of her shoulders, and no matter what she did, she could not break free from his deadly embrace.

"Do not fight me," Makarov warned her, a mere whisper into her ears as he coaxed her deeper into his arms. "You will gain nothing from it…" He nibbled on her earlobe, and kissed her cheek. She was alone, far from the ones who loved her, eternally separated from her brothers in arms. The pains of a lone soldier with no hope for the future was horrifyingly real, and one that he would willingly help her alleviate, if only she would let him.

Ryuka looked into his heterochromic eyes, and she knew that she was getting weaker by the second. Not weaker in body and in strength, but in resolve, and in spirit. She looked into those eyes of sapphire and of emerald, and she found a slight notion of comfort, something that she had not allowed herself, ever since she had set foot in Dushanbe. It had been five days… Her wounds were already on the way to recovery, where she had been shot by his men, but the wounds of her heart… they had been a different story.

In the face of the enemy, she refused to even show the slightest inkling of fear and of pain. She had only shed one teardrop before Makarov, when he reminded her that she was no longer the co-Lieutenant of the now-prosecuted Task Force 141, but was its only surviving one… She did not speak further, she would not say anything to that man, for she knew that he would not regard anything that she would say anyways. She felt him embrace her tighter, trapping his fingers in her hair.

"Let us forget about everything for the night," he told her, kissing her temple, an almost tender gesture. "Let us not remember that there is a war and that we are fighting on two different sides of the board…" Ryuka looked at him, confusion written so clearly upon her features. She did not offer him any form of response, she only looked into his heterochromic eyes and blinked. "Let me take the weight of the dead from your shoulders, only for tonight…"

Even those who had seemed to be cold and heartless, they were also human. Even the most steadfast of soldiers, and stubborn of souls, would have one point in their lives when they knew that the walls around them would close around them, and silence them, hiding them in the darkness of the shadows… Ryuka knew that if she had kept up these walls that she had purposely built to house her broken heart, they would easily shatter and break along with her sanity. She had been tired… So damned tired… Tired from feigning strength when she had none, tired by the anger that she had felt, the pain and the thought that she should have known that Shepherd had betrayed them all along…

And for the second and the last time in her life, another teardrop fell down from her eyes, right in front of him.

Makarov looked at Ryuka before him, and kissed her tears away. None more appeared, and he continued to embrace her as she sank her head into his chest. He might have been a cold, violent terrorist, but he was not a brute in any way, he would not take her until she was completely ready to be taken. There, he waited until she had showed signs of stability, and lifted her chin with his finger and thumb. Slowly, he pressed his lips against hers, and quickened the pace when she brought her arms around his neck.

It took a little coaxing, but soon she started to respond to the kiss. With almost a careful manner, she took her own tongue into his mouth, igniting a fiery dance as she slipped his suit off him. "Makarov…" she murmured when almost tore her clothes apart, inflamed with anticipation and desire, and aided him in removing them.

Her lithe body, it was not as perfect as he had deemed, but it could not be taken as a flaw at all. She had many scars, battle-scars, as any warrior should have, remnants and living mementos of her life as a soldier. But other than that, she had been everything that he had imagined her to be. He took one of her breasts in one hand, and licked the other, through and through.

She moaned, and threw off his clothes as well, bringing her hands throughout his body, leaving trails of tingling sensations wherever she had touched him. It could have been the thrill of the forbidden, or it was just the fact that he had lusted after her so long, but both of them knew that they had never sensed such fire before. Makarov placed searing kisses all over her jawline, and pressed his erect manhood against her inner thigh, earning yet another moan, right in his ear.

Of all the goddesses that he could have had, this one, the most vicious of them all, was the one that he desired. They had come dangerously close to her katana, and he knew that she could have killed him at that time and place, and he would not be ready at all. However, she did not take up the weapon when they passed it. Her black eyes, they were focused only open him, and she carefully tread over her katana while he proceeded to rain kisses all over her neck and décolletage. And there it remained, for the rest of the night.

By locking her legs around his waist, Makarov held her tightly in his arms, and sheathed himself completely in her womanhood. Both of them groaned in pleasure, and he leaned her against the nearest wall for support, continuing his heated foray into the world of passion with her. Placing her head on his shoulder, Ryuka started to rock her own body against his, controlling the speed and the rhythm of their joined movements.

"You burn of fire…" he whispered into her ear, causing her to smile at those words, a rare sight for his eyes. "Do you burn like this with him as well?"

She did not answer Makarov's question, and only kissed him as hungrily as he did her. "A lady does not kiss and tell," she told him, grazing her tongue against his before allowing him to catch her nipple between his teeth. She was close, yes, very close, and so was he… His thrusts had become shorter, and faster, and in a way, more desperate to achieve what they had meant to…

Within seconds he reached his climax, and Ryuka soon after. Gently, he removed himself from her depths and kissed her again, transferring themselves from the wall and onto the floor. There, he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, until sleep both took them.

* * *

HAN: TADAH! How did you like the Makarov/Ryuka lemon?

And I have to admit, I cheated a little on this chapter. All martial arts moves were "borrowed" from the awesome anime series, Rurouni Kenshin, or, Samurai X. ^.^ And also the quote in Japanese!

Once again, cookies and mini katanas for all those who had reviewed. And yes, I did rather enjoy writing up the "Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo" bit. teehee..


	19. Part 2: The Plans They Make

She had submerged herself fully into the water in the huge bathtub, which greatly resembled the marbled bathing-pools of ancient royalty, letting the embrace of the hot water envelope her. Her dark eyes, they were closed, and she could see almost everything that transpired just a few hours ago. When she had awoken, in Makarov's arms, she was already back in his private suite, but was not in the room that she had previously locked herself in throughout their stay there…

She had willingly given herself to that dark soul, and she knew that no amount of bathing would ever remove that the marks that he had left upon her soul. He had led her to believe that she had no longer any hope in persevering in the path that she had chosen, and for that one moment, she had believed that his words were true… She was weak, too damned weak…

Ryuka's thoughts went immediately to MacTavish, to how she had deliberately betrayed him. And without Makarov near her, she could finally let that mask of strength that she had fought so desperately to keep down. Rising from the water, she started to cry silent tears… In that time of weakness, she had spit upon the dead bodies of Roach, Ghost, Archer, Toad, and in that time of weakness, she had taken all of their memories and cursed them to hell…

The mark on her collarbone that MacTavish had left, it had not disappeared yet, and it had represented her hope that they would all meet again in Dushanbe, as per their promise…

There were countless more love-bites all over her body, all made by one man and one man only. And from that moment on, she knew that Makarov had thought that he would be able to shatter her even further than she had already been shattered… She was a fool for allowing Makarov to even take advantage of her weakened state, to even allow him to catch of glimpse of how broken she had been. She had been a fool, even in the beginning, to even have allowed him to discover who she was, in that he would turn the tables around, and come looking for her as she had hunted him down…

And she had promised herself that he would one day repay what he had done to her, her family and her country in full. Makarov would only wish that he had thought twice before angering her, the Red Dragon…

* * *

"The worst thing about our situation is that we don't know what Makarov is gonna do next," MacTavish said. After almost 24 hours since Ryuka's sister from the CIA-UN Intel Network had given him a new "superdrug" his recovery had seemed to be quickened at least tenfold, and by then, he was only days away to being combat-ready. Even as he had convened with Price, Ryurei and Nikolai as to how they should continue their operations. "If he's using the war as a cover for something bigger, what could it be?"

The very fact that Makarov had worked with Shepherd to start the war, paired with the Russian President's swift call to war made it clear enough to them that Makarov was still in it with the Ultranationalists. However, they had utterly no way to prove it. Unless… "Reddie is already with Makarov," Price said, his voice suggesting something that MacTavish knew that he would not have liked at all. "Why don't we…"

"It won't work," MacTavish argued. "Look at what he did to Joseph Allen! He killed the guy and used him to make the US responsible for the attack on the airport!" He was getting irritable. Every single second that they had spent there debating on what to do next was a single second wasted, for Ryuka, and for the world.

Ryurei, on the other hand, begged to differ. "Ryuka-chan knows what she must do," she said to the two Captains, and turned to MacTavish. "Makarov only killed Joseph Allen because he already knew that he was a spy from the CIA and the Task Force 141, but Ryuka-chan was a war-prize that Shepherd had given to Makarov… I have retrieved the files that Shadow Company had taken from the DSM that your men had stolen from Makarov, and my sister's name appeared in one of the folders… As it turned out, her whole file had been given to him… Makarov must have had a deep interest in her, or else Shepherd would not have sold her to him at all. He would not suspect her at all, if she was to do the same that Allen had been tasked to."

MacTavish had known that a year ago, Ryuka had met Makarov in Pyongyang, where she and Ghost had let a team to stop a North Korean general from providing the Ultranationalists with another nuclear warhead. In fact, it was only then, from Ryuka's eyes, had they seen Makarov's face after four years of chasing him as an unseen enemy. "Reddie said that you two were the ones who found out that he was the one who gave al-Asad that nuclear missile… How did you find him out?"

Ryurei looked at him, and at Price. The older man nodded, and she looked out the window, recalling a distant, but familiar memory. "We were on a mission in the Middle East with our father and Shepherd… The two of us were sent into one of the outlying villages to check on a strange signal that we have picked up, and we traced it to an abandoned hut where an Ultranationalist had been hiding…" She told MacTavish and Price how they had interrogated the man, and how he had defiantly activated the missile after telling them that the _Shadow of Zakhaev, his Executioner_, would destroy the Western world's dogs and cronies to fulfill the mission of the Ultranationalists… "We managed to trace the transmission which authorized that Ultranationalist's actions, and we found out that there had been a third man at the head of the Ultranationalists, apart from the Zakhaevs…"

Her words, they might have done nothing to help their current situation, but MacTavish had begun to see a pattern at once. Ryuka had been the one who had uncovered Makarov's tracks, because she was so skilled in gathering Intel. Makarov could have known that she had existed very early on, which was why he had worked with the Chinese to burn down the ancestral home of the Daughters of the Dragons…

"We need to get to wherever Makarov is," MacTavish told the others. "We can't leave Ryuka there alone." He did not care if he was using his own emotions as a guide, nor did he give a damn at all. All he knew was that if Makarov had shown a high interest in Ryuka, there was literally no telling as to what he would do to her at all. He would not forgive himself if…

"Do you know what would happen if you are implicated in China?" Ryurei asked him, her tone serious. There was no doubt that Ryuka had known it as well, which was why she had received no news on Makarov from Shanghai thus far. "You, Uncle Price and Ryuka-chan are named as war-criminals for treason against the U.S. government. If China decides to sell you out, you will be sent back to the U.S., and when the military gets a hold of you, even the CIA cannot plead your case."

The U.S. military had been a shining beacon of light to the world, and also the darkest plague ever to hit the earth. No matter what had happened to the world, it was still the single greatest military force on the planet, and now, each and every U.S. soldier had been ordered to kill them upon sight thanks to Shepherd. Without the files on the DSM, they were legally international fugitives, no matter what they said they were.

"You'll need Makarov to take the blame for you," Nikolai suggested. "Get him to reveal every single detail about what happened."

"That's really easy to say, Nikolai," Price interjected. "But how we're gonna go about it is another thing altogether. Makarov isn't someone that you can force into action because you want him to, you've gotta make him look like he has no other choice, like he did it out of his own choice."

A bitter chuckle escaped Ryurei's lips. "And that is where Ryuka-chan comes in," she told the men. "If she's what is on Makarov's mind right now, then she has to be the one who gets that confession out of him. There's no other way." She knew her sister, and she knew her sister well. Ryuka would do anything to get to her goals, and she would have already discovered that Makarov was the next best thing instead of getting the DSM's information straight to the only remaining transparent regulating body of the world that dared to at least stand up to the United States of America – The United Nations.

"Nikolai, how soon can you get us to Shangai?" MacTavish asked Nikolai, hoping that the Russian would give him an affirmative answer. He needed to get to Ryuka, he needed to see her, as the man who loved her, and also as her superior.

"As soon as you're ready, my friend," Nikolai replied. "However, the Chinese will know that it's me the moment we enter their airspace…"

"Don't worry," Ryurei said. "I have a contact in China that will help us out. He will aid is in whatever manner he can."

* * *

"You are angry over what had happened yesterday," Makarov said to Ryuka over breakfast. Tomorrow would be the day of the diamond exhibition, and Ryuka's nerves tensed. She did not know whether or not she should take the opportunity to escape, and risk MacTavish and Price's lives, or, to remain there with Makarov as his personal prize.

Ryuka took a spoonful of rice porridge with a bit of fried fish, and concentrated on her food, remaining silent for a long while. "What was done was done," she told him coolly. "The past cannot be changed." Her only hope was that MacTavish would forgive her for what she had done, although she did not expect him to. Tortured by heartbreak or not, it had not been an excuse for what she had done the night previous.

"Darling, am I so repulsive that you cannot stand the sight of me?" he asked her. That was not even a real question, and Ryuka knew it. Makarov was in no way a repulsive man at all. In fact, he was an alluring man despite his age. His dark hair, and that voice had been more than enough to make any common woman melt like butter in an instant. He was still a fighter, and had managed to retain a sculpted, but lean physique… However, it was his eyes that made everything different. Those heterochromic eyes held the coldest gaze that she had ever seen. They made him even more sinister that she had known him to be, but there had been something that still drawn her to them.

"You are my enemy, Makarov," she explained to him. "No matter what happens between us, this remains the truth of things, and neither you nor I can change it." She put down her chopsticks and turned away from him. "I cannot abandon my mission, just because of what we had done, nor can I forget the promises that I had made to those who mean the world to me."

It was then Makarov's turn to say nothing at all. Silence had been a response that he had needed, and it would be a response that he would give her. Black met with sapphire and emerald, and he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her. "From the very first time I saw you, I knew that you would be a fiery person indeed, darling," he told her. "You do not know how much I have toiled to discover who you are, the Red Dragon of America and Japan… When this ends, I will show you that your path lies with me and not with the one that you used to tread…"


	20. Part 2: The Sparkling Reunion

"Do you know that you would be even more dazzling if you smiled more?" Makarov asked Ryuka the very moment she had emerged from her room in the black dress that he had bought her a few days previous. He himself had donned a tuxedo, but had a gun holstered onto his shoulder, while he handed her the Desert Eagle that she had already taken from her, along with its thigh holster.

Ryuka already knew why the hell Makarov wanted her to attend that diamond exhibition. Her presence about Shanghai had already started ripples of rumors, and there was no use to have her hidden. Anyways, it would not be logical that only three men would cover all the security details for an exhibition of that scale. Besides, she was an able warrior; he could use another helping hand.

"What is it that you plan to do, Makarov?" she asked him, putting on a pair of sapphire earrings, the new tattoo on her arm visible to the world. He knew it to be the insignia of the Task Force 141 that she had just gotten in utter defiance of him. It depicted a skull above a winged sword, a strange motif for an elegant woman. Her dark eyes, they were watching his every move like a hawk, ready to pounce at him with every chance that she would have.

"You already know it, darling," Makarov told her, placing the diamond choker around her neck, noticing that she had expertly covered the love-bites that he had left with some kind of cosmetic product, everything, save for that one tattoo. "We are just going to make an appearance, pretend to work for a few moments, and then, perhaps, get you a few diamonds…"

Ryuka rolled her eyes. He was teasing her, and she knew it well. "Just cut to the chase," she interrupted him, checking her hair for anything out of place. It had been kept simple, tied into a small bun, adorned with Swarovski crystal-lined pins. Her katana had to be carried in a long, slim pouch, masquerading as some sort of a camera tripod.

Makarov chuckled, and said, "I plan to gain an airfield in Harbin, where I can hide some of my more… precious aircraft." The Task Force 141 and the Shadow Company would not be the only "hidden" units that the Western countries had against his forces, and there would be countless of others more. He was using some form of reverse-psychology, because the U.S. would assume that he would not continue to hide his resources in foreign lands, due to a Task Force 141 mission where they had thought that they were able to recover the ACS module… In fact, he would continue to use the same tactic, and hide it in China, to see if the Americans would dare to try to take it from him by force or by covert means indeed.

"And what would you give him in return?" Ryuka asked, walking up to Makarov. In her Christian Louboutin heels, she was almost taller than he was, and he smirked at the strange exchange of height.

"That is for you to find out later, darling," he said, kissing her forehead before reaching for a shopping bag that she had not noticed was there before. It had been a beautiful white fur-shawl, which he had wrapped around her shoulders. "It is cold out there, darling, even here."

She raised an eyebrow, and brought the shawl around her body tighter. They left the suite, with her arm wound around his, just for show. "I would rather freeze to death than to be with you any moment longer," she whispered to him in Russian, but from afar, and with her radiant smile, she seemed to be whispering sweet nothings into his ears.

Makarov was amused. "How many languages do you speak, darling?" he asked her.

For the first time in the day, she smiled a little. "Only Chinese, English, Russian, Japanese, Spanish, French and German…"

* * *

"You are men of iron will," the Chinese official before Price, MacTavish and Nikolai said in perfect English. "Anyone could have given up if they were in your position…" Chen was like General Lee, an influential player in the Chinese Army, but unlike Lee, he often worked closely with the Americans, knowing that the Ultranationalists would not always be working with China for "mutual advantage".

"We've been trying to take Makarov down for five years," MacTavish said. He among all, knew how it had been in those years chasing after Makarov. One step forwards, and two steps back… How many men had he had lost due in each of those missions, he did not even want to remember. How many innocents had died, just because of Makarov's acts of terror, he did not even want to know. "We're gonna make sure that he never sticks his head up again."

Chen put a hand on MacTavish's shoulder, and nodded in agreement. "I like a man of determination," he told MacTavish. "And you are in luck, gentlemen. I have information that your subordinate is acting as one of the security personnel-cum-guests of the event. However, you must be careful if you are to meet her."

Relief rushed over MacTavish, Price and Ryurei the very moment Chen said those words. Ryuka was alive, but upon hindsight, it was already known that Makarov had no intention to kill her… "What is the plan?" Price asked. They were playing not in their own court, but that of the Chinese, Price knew that they could not take charge of the situation, they would have to play according to the rules of the Chinese.

"You are to attend the exhibition as well, my friends," Chen answered. "However, you will not be doing anything else. Contact your subordinate, and tell her that she is to feed information back to you regarding all of Makarov's actions. We will stop that beast before it is too late…"

Immediately, three suits and a gown were brought towards them, along with enough weapons to last them for any eventuality. "Don't worry, we'll do our best to behave," Ryurei reassured the General with a smile. MacTavish looked at her, and was once again reminded of Ryuka. She smiled just like that as well… And he would see her again. "But we'll have to hope that Ryuka-chan can recognize the three of you in tuxedoes."

* * *

"Ah, my friend," Lee said to Makarov, shaking his hand. "Here is the beautiful little angel that we have heard so many rumors of this past week." The General's eyes moved to Ryuka, who gave him a polite nod, and a brilliant smile. Makarov had to hand it to Ryuka, she was not just named one of the world's top Black Ops specialists for no reason. This woman was perfectly able to be placed in every single situation, able to turn her face into a complete and total mask.

"Ryuka, this is General Lee," Makarov introduced, speaking to her in Chinese before the General. "He has been a valuable friend and ally for many years."

She shook the General's hand, and said in the same language, "I am honored, General Lee." A Japanese speaking in Mandarin, well, it immediately pleased the General greatly, who roared loudly in laughter. "Your exploits during the Xinjiang uprisings were utterly inspirational…" In fact, she was the one who started investigations on the General. He had his men rouse the Xinjiang Uyghurs against the Han Chinese majority, while he tried to ease the inter-ethnic tensions between the two races.

"She is both intelligent and beautiful," the General praised, and turned to Makarov. "You must not let this one go. She seems to be your match through and through."

If they had been in other settings, Ryuka would have already rolled her eyes. She was Lieutenant Ryuka Algren, a sniper and a Black Ops specialist… She would never be a match for Vladimir Makarov. "Darling," he said to her, "You heard the General. Please, do not let me go."

Ryuka chuckled as the men around her laughed again, playing coy. "I will check on the quadrant alpha," she feigned a report, and moved away from them. And when she was far away enough from Makarov, she shook her head as much as a beautifully-coiffed hair and intricate jewelry would allow her to.

She had moved to the aforementioned sector, and found nothing at all. However, when she closed her eyes, she began to feel something that she had not sensed in a long, long time. No… it could not be… It was impossible. She had seen his injuries. He could not have recovered in such a short time.

Her dark eyes, they then fell upon a single ring. Its six diamonds were made to resemble a star in the night sky, but under the lights of the exhibition center, it shone greater than any star. It was more beautiful than anything that she had seen before. The central diamond, it was a Hearts and Arrows diamond, weighing about eight carats itself… The band of the titanium ring, was encrusted further by countless black diamonds, which also glittered like their clear counterparts.

"It is as beautiful as you are, darling," Makarov's voice interrupted her awe. "It is yours if you wish for it."

"I do not think so," Ryuka replied, "You can buy a hundred Tomahawk missiles with this ring alone…"

Something stopped her words… That flare of Ki… She knew that it well enough… She should have been able to recognize it the very first time she had felt it. It was MacTavish. He was somewhere close, she could feel it… While Makarov motioned for one of the exhibition's personnel that he would buy the ring, she turned around and found her Captain standing right in the sea of people, clearly for her to see.

He nodded towards her, and using the sign language that they of the Task Force 141 had formulated themselves, he told her that he would meet her in a secluded part of the exhibition, where they could be alone for a few minutes. Ryuka responded, and turned back towards Makarov, to avoid his suspicions.

The Russian looked towards her, and found that her eyes were red, as if she would almost start to cry. "Darling…" he said, his voice sounding as if it had been filled with genuine concern. "What is the matter?" he asked, bringing his fingers to her cheek tentatively.

"It is nothing," she told him. "Just… something in my eye. Please, excuse me."

Makarov nodded, and let her go, but not without placing a kiss to her forehead. "Be careful," he warned her, and she nodded before moving away from him.

* * *

MacTavish had never seen Ryuka more beautiful in his entire life. It was as if she had been a different person altogether, and not the strong, feisty soldier that he had known. In a beautiful one shoulder-gown, adorned with previous stones, she looked as if she had been a modern-day princess…

But when he held her in his arms again, when he had smelt her scent once again, he knew that she was none other than Ryuka Algren, his Ryuka… "Reddie…" he called her by her call-sign, and she responded with a nod, a teardrop falling from her eye and onto the shoulder of his tuxedo.

"John…" she replied, and he kissed her, not caring about a thing in the world. Yes, this was the man that she had loved. There was no mistake about it. "Please… forgive me…" she apologized, remembering what she had done… "Makarov…"

MacTavish put a finger to her lips. "You did what you had to do," he reassured her. No sane man would have allowed and tolerated the touch of another man upon the woman he loved, but he knew that in times of war, it was the price that they had to pay. "Ryuka… We'll start over, after all this has ended. Right now…"

"I have to bring whatever Makarov has back to you…" she finished his sentence. There was no mistake about it. This was Ryuka, in all her beauty and her cunning intuition. "I know what it is that I must do…" To see MacTavish right there, alive and well, she also knew that Price would be in the same state as well. Her dark eyes, they were misted with tears, not of pain, like those that Makarov had seen, they were of joy.

"Go, Reddie," he whispered into her ear. "Makarov's gonna want to find out where you've been when you're gone this long."

Ryuka nodded, and closed her eyes as he kissed the top of her head before he released her from his arms. "Be safe, John," she told him, and squeezed his larger hand in hers before she left him. "Do not worry about me."

"I never did, Ryuka," he told her, and gave her a small, dark object, which could be attached to the back of her earring.

* * *

By the time when she had returned to Makarov's side, word had passed throughout the exhibition venue that he would purchase one of the most expensive pieces there, costing about fifty million U.S. Dollars. Ryuka had been all-smiles, but she told the man standing behind the display to place it back. "I do not need a single ring," she told him, in a tone of voice loud enough for everyone around them to hear.

In the boldest display of the sheer iron will of all those in the Task Force 141, Ryuka kissed Makarov right in the eye of the public. "Darling…" he murmured, half-shocked, and half-amused.

"I have you now…"

* * *

HAN: Ahahaha... So this chapter is extremely similar to the one in the Red Dragon. Would you guys want it to end like the original one, or would you like me to extend the fic for something... more?


	21. Part 2: The Opulent Dinner

_"Touch me again, and I would kill you…"_

Those were words that Ryuka wished that she could have uttered to Makarov, but there had been no way back out. Not when she had already given herself to him, not when she herself had initiated such a public and passionate kiss with Makarov, not when she had said those words to him…

They were now in a limousine, where she had rested her head on his shoulder, saying nothing at all. Her fingers were clasped in his, a gesture that he thought had worked to calm her down, somewhat. "Ryuka, why are you so silent all of a sudden?" he asked her, tipping her chin slightly, indirectly forcing her to look into his heterochromic eyes.

She forced a smile and looked away. "It is nothing of concern," she told him, her voice softer than it usually had been. She only clutched her katana closer to her, and continued, "I miss my family… I have not seen my parents and my sister in a long, long time." That had been partly true as well. Ever since she had joined the Task Force 141, she could only go back to Kyoto to visit her parents once in a blue moon, and it had been almost a year since she last saw her family.

"How are they?" he asked her, once again, sounding as if he had been truly concerned about her.

"They are well in Kyoto, before we went to Rio," Ryuka answered, and said nothing more. "No doubt, you are giving my sister hell, indirectly." If Makarov could have discovered who she was, he would most probably already found out who her sister was as well. What was strange was that he had chosen her to haunt, and not Ryurei…

Makarov nodded, and said, "The CIA are always having their hands full, darling." Still, that sour expression on her face had not been removed. "I thought that you relished the free air, Ryuka, why the long face?"

"Makarov, why are you always asking me everything that is so obvious?" Ryuka asked him in return, more curious than frustrated. She knew everything there was about to know about him, where he had been, what he had done… But she knew next to nothing about him when it came to him himself, Vladimir Makarov, the person, and not the terrorist, not the former Ultranationalist leader nor even the former Soviet soldier. He could read her like a book, but she could not even see past where he would bring her for dinner… It was… highly unfair, and she was growing to tire of it.

He did not answer her, only giving her that smirk of triumph that she had sworn never to see again ever since she had first failed to kill him; One that she had failed to wipe off his face, no matter how hard she tried. Pulling her closer to him, he planted a kiss on her forehead, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck ever so slightly. "To each his own, darling," he told her in the end, and positioned her so that she was straddling his lap. "Has anyone been riled with your preference in using a katana in combat?"

That question actually made Ryuka smile a little. "Only one…" she answered, bringing an arm around his neck as he inched his lips closer to hers. Despite what Makarov actually thought, Ryuka rarely used her katana in the field, save for ultimately desperate situations, which seemed to be happening whenever he had been near her. "It has never left my side since I was fifteen,"

That had not been a long time ago, Makarov mused. Ryuka was young, to say the least, her rank despite her age had already shown the world just how capable she was. However, it could not be forgotten that she was trained to be a soldier since young, no; she was born and bred to be a soldier. How strange it was, that he was lusting after a woman twenty years younger than he was, not that he minded it, but she was technically young enough to be his daughter, upon hindsight.

Makarov too, had a weapon that he had used since young. It was the M9 that he had used to kill Joseph Allen with, the very same weapon that Zakhaev had given him, shortly after his dismissal from the newly-formed Russian Army, shortly after the UN-US led Human Rights tribunal… That pistol, was as old as she was, and was still in perfect condition. "Zakhaev was like a father to me," he told her. "If you think that I am utterly 'out of control' now, you have not known me then… He taught me how to still my anger, and how to channel my hatred… If it were not for him, I would most probably be rotting in Guantanamo Bay now…"

"Guantanamo Bay has been defunct since Obama's days," Ryuka reminded him gently, subconsciously meeting her forehead with his. She knew that it was an inside joke, where terrorists had been sent there during the height of the American's army military days.

This was not the Vladimir Makarov that she had known at all… Where was the bloodthirsty terrorist that had gunned down all those civilians almost two weeks ago? Where was the man who had crashed a tram into Piccadilly Circus when she was but a child? Where was the man who had sent them on a wild goose chase time and time again, making them think that they would be able to stop him, when he initiated another attack on the innocent?

"Who are you?" she asked him, bringing her free hand to his face. It was a rhetorical question, quite unlike those that he would bombard her with, because he loved to see her furrowed brows, and slightly infuriated expression. "Which is true, Makarov? Are you just a former Soviet soldier, blinded by hate, too stubborn to embrace change, or are you a terrorist who has no heart?"

Makarov raised her hand, which had been still joined in his, and kissed it. "It is a little bit of both, darling," he answered, drawing her into his arms. He did not allow her to speak further and only pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was softer, and gentler than the ones that they had shared before. "I hope that one day, you would learn more about me, as I have with you…" Now, it was her turn to be silent, and he smiled. At that exact moment, the limousine stopped, and they were right before another restaurant. "I hope that you are able to stomach shark's fin, darling."

Ryuka rolled her eyes (she was always doing it this past week, so she noted to herself. "I grew up eating whale burgers," she told him, reminding him of her Japanese heritage. She would not be afraid of something as paltry as shark's fin. He shook his head with a smile, and led her down the limousine.

* * *

He was right, winter during that time of the year was rather cold, and with the dress that she was currently in, she really began to appreciate the fur shawl that he had given her. However, it all just made her miss her Arctic-catsuit, which was lined with synthetic fur from within… What she would not give to be in the height of battle, and not in such conditions…

"Koutatsu, this is Kurotatsu," Ryurei said into her comms. There she was, dressed as one of the waitresses in that opulent restaurant, hiding in the kitchen. With the microphone that Ryuka had attached behind her earring, was also a small in-ear earpiece. There was no doubt that her sister could hear her. "I'm with Jiji and MacTavish… Be careful, we think that Lee is on high alert. He doesn't trust Makarov so much, now that he knows of the Task Force 141."

Ryuka smiled, and looked towards Makarov. With her binoculars, Ryurei could see her sister tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and flex her fingers. "Reddie says that she got the message," MacTavish translated, "And that Makarov has two men with him, fully armed."

"How did you know that?" Ryurei asked him, and then shut her jaw when she realized what was going on. "Your organization is indeed a well-prepared one, MacTavish… You even invented your own sign-language." The older Algren sister was impressed indeed. "Not even the CIA could have thought of this."

"Well, all you need is a few drunk men," MacTavish offered, and explained no further. As with Chinese-fashion, Makarov and Ryuka were ushered into a large private room with an equally enormous table, and before the doors were closed, Ryuka touched the center of her décolletage with the pads of her fingers and nodded. "She told us to be careful."

Ryurei chuckled. "You seem more concerned that you should be," she said to MacTavish. "Don't worry, MacTavish. My sister is more than capable of handing operations like this. The only one that you should be worrying about is Makarov right now."

* * *

"Makarov, you have deceived me, my friend," Lee said to Makarov after they had all finished eating, and the dining-table had been cleaned up. "You told me that no one knew of our operations, and now, my sources have confirmed that there is this...Task Force 141 who is hot on your trail."

"The Task Force 141 is already defunct," Makarov replied. "Although they have hunted me for the past five years, they could do nothing to stop me, and now, their remaining three members are WIA and are wanted by the U.S. army for high treason."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure of that?" he asked Makarov. "They are formed by high officials in the USSOCOM, why would they be wanted by the US for treason, of all things?"

Ryuka was the one who answered that question. "They were betrayed," she said, with no hint of emotion in her voice, taking a sip of red wine as she spoke. "And now, they are destroyed, fully. Those three that are still alive, they will not pose any threat to us at all."

For a second there, Makarov was almost as stunned as Lee had been. They were lucky that Lee could not recognize the emblem of the Task Force 141 upon her arm, but even then, not many now knew how it looked like. It just resembled a very strange, and gothic design, and nothing more. "Take the word of a beautiful woman, Lee," Makarov pressed further. "Your mind would be at ease."

"My mind would be at ease when news like that stop coming out into the open," Lee replied. At that moment, Ryuka knew that Lee was not a prime target at all. His Intel had been five years late, and not only that, he still relied on Makarov to give it to him. Even if things were to go downhill per Murphy's Law, he would not be a serious complication, and she was completely thankful for it. "The airfield that you plan to purchase from me, it is worth more than you think."

"An airfield in Harbin?" Makarov asked in reply. "It is barely even a strategic location, Lee." Even Ryuka did not know what the General was talking about. If the airfield was valuable if it was located in a place where no one would even think to look, then it could be logical, but… could there be other reasons at all?

Lee hung his head in exasperation. "The soil, Makarov, the soil!" With a snap of his fingers, his assistant gave him a map of the surrounding areas of the airfield. "Do you not know what you can grow using this soil? The profits that one can yield?"

Makarov sighed. Lee was such a person, always calculating every single possibility to earn a quick buck or two. Well, if he did not have that kind of personality, he would not be negotiating with the General at all. "I will give you a million hectares of this land all across Indonesia if fertile land is what you wish, what with the latest eruptions covering the earth with a fresh layer of volcanic ash and lava…" The Chinese were among the easiest to deal with, give them land, and they would give everything they had in exchange.

However, Ryuka still did not understand one thing. Why an airfield in Harbin? Would Makarov not bring the war to China as well? What would Lee have to gain from this exchange, apart from a heap of volcanic land?

At that moment, one of Makarov's henchmen entered the room with a laptop. "Sir, Vorshevsky is on the line."

Vorshevsky? What did he have to do with anything?

"Boris, I have secured the deal," Makarov said to Vorshevsky. "General Lee has been most gracious to grant our request."

The image of the President of Russia looked pleased indeed. Through the use of a translator, Vorshevsky said to Lee, "Thank you, General; the treasures of Russia's air force will be well-protected thanks to your help…"

Two pieces of paper were brought out by Makarov's men. Two copies of the contract that described the deal that they had just made, and the signature of the left on both contracts, it had already been signed by Boris Vorshevsky, in the President's own handwriting.

* * *

"They're gonna frame Vorshevsky for selling Russian aircraft to China…" Price concluded. When the President of the Russian Federation committed such a serious offense, only one thing could happen… If Makarov's feud with the ruling Ultranationalists had been but a false move to take the eyes of the world away from their other activities, and that he had double-crossed the Ultranationalists as well as the rest of the world, Makarov would cease power over the Russian government, the instant the deal would be laid out in the public, and take full military control, given his previous experience in the Soviet Army.

And if Makarov took full control of the Russian military, there was no telling what would happen to the world, given his hatred towards all Western countries…

* * *

HAN: If anyone thinks that there were any racist connotations regarding the Chinese, please be reminded that I am Chinese myself. Harbin is on the Russian-Chinese border, located in south-east Russia, or north-east China, depending on where you see it.

P.S: It's been a long time since I've heard from anyone... Please review! This girl needs reviews to keep going! ^.^ (So much for shameless self-whoring!)


	22. Part 2: The Deals Made

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141 – Makarov's prisoner, wanted fugitive

Zakhaev International Airport

* * *

She had imagined the place as a still-burning inferno. She had imagined it to reek of dead corpses, and its walls to be bloodstained, recording the echoes of the dead and dying. She had never expected to see the site of the chaos that had started the war to be so…

She could not find a word for what she was seeing, she would not even make herself believe that the travelling masses had forgotten what had happened there, no more than three weeks ago. Her dark eyes looked from place to place, corner to corner, and she just felt no trace of carnage, bloodshed or pain… Not even death, not at the site where hundreds had been mercilessly gunned down by the man who was holding her arm in his.

The only thing that reminded the world of that terrible massacre was a plaque at the main lobby of the airport, where the names of each and every victim had been recorded, a single black stone, ten feet high and ten feet wide, surrounded by fresh flowers.

"The world has no justice," Ryuka said once Makarov's lackeys had retrieved his car, which had to be nothing less than the latest variant of a Ferrari Spider. "Eight hundred men, women and children had died in this airport, and the perpetrator drives out of it unchecked, unchallenged and in a Ferrari…" Rolling her eyes, Ryuka looked out the window, and swatted off Makarov's hand before he was able to do anything to her.

Makarov shook his head and smirked inwardly. "You know me so well, darling," he told her. For the past week, he had already learnt that there was utterly no point in trying to make her smile with his charms, no matter what he tried, she would always remain as cold and aloof with him… "And I thought that you would try to kill me with any chance you have?"

More than anything, Ryuka was utterly furious at herself because she had been unable to kill him again and again. It had been his quick thinking their first time they had met, the fact that he had been supported by hidden gunmen on the second, and her own emotional instability on the third. However, it did not change the fact that only he could prove her innocence that the Task Force 141 had been betrayed by Shepherd, and did not turn against him…

"That day will come," she told him through gritted teeth. Her dark eyes, they continued to look out the window, but she could see his reflection from the tinted glass… So, this was Moscow… She had never been into the capital city of Russia before, even though she had braved each and every one of that vast country's harsh terrains, in each of the seasons of the year.

"Be careful what you wish for, darling," he warned, almost jokingly. "One day, when I truly am gone, you would wish that I am by your side…" They stopped right in the heart of the city's financial center, where skyscrapers, owned by the world's top corporations and companies competed against one another, themselves in height and grandeur, the people that flitted in and out of them, for power, money, and fortune. This had been the darker side of humanity, and of progress, and Makarov was the dark phantom that built himself upon those things…

Ryuka did not need to be a local to know that a single unit in that area would cost more than a few fortunes, and Makarov took her by the hand, and led her onto an elevator. Floor by floor, they acscended into the skyline of this ancient, yet modern city, and when they had reached the twenty-fifth floor of that apartment complex, the lift doors opened to reveal the most beautiful dwelling that she had ever seen.

The penthouse had been simply decorated, space-saving furniture, all in matte-black leather. There was literally none of the ostentatious air of his Hotel La Dragone 'dOro, but something more simple, but no less luxurious. "Make yourself at home, darling," he told her, throwing their luggage at one side, save for her katana, which she still held in the camera-tripod bag.

She remained in her defiant silence, but took a seat on one of the sofas, staring into space, as if contemplating how best to kill him in his sleep. Thus, he said nothing as well, and sat himself on the sofa opposite that of hers, facing her directly. If that was how she had wanted to play the game, he would see how long she could continue with that strong front.

* * *

"Reddie is in the lair of the tiger now," Price said, after listening into Ryuka's and Makarov's conversations. There had been nothing much, the two of them seemed to be perfectly able to get in one another's nerves… They sounded nothing like mortal enemies at all. "There's very little that we can do for her now."

Ryurei nodded. "On the other hand, what she does will matter life and death for us," she concluded, and looked towards MacTavish. "If she can obtain all of Makarov's original files, then we can decipher it and we can clear all your names… But knowing you, you would not just stop at there, right?"

"We can't just stop at avenging ourselves," MacTavish added, straining his ears to hear what Makarov and Ryuka were saying, despite the fact that they were clearly speaking in Russian. In the end, he could only make out a few words, having almost next to no knowledge of that language. "Makarov can't go unpunished for what he's done."

Nikolai agreed with MacTavish as well. "I never liked the guy anyways," he told the rest of them. Nikolai might have been a former Soviet soldier like Makarov, but in recent years, he had been a Loyalist through and through. The Ultranationalists might have been able to purge Russia of almost every trace of the Loyalists, but they had not managed to even detect Nikolai, just because he was able to escape, thanks to his highly adaptive ways, and a few "friends" in all the right places.

* * *

Night had fallen, and Makarov had been asleep for quite some time already… Even the most ruthless of terrorists would have to sleep; Ryuka mused, and started to venture about his apartment, if it could be called one, looking for signs of any information that he could have left. With the Desert Eagle holstered onto her thigh, she searched room to room, but found nothing…

There was only one computer there in his apartment, but it had been wiped completely clean… She should have expected something like this to happen… She was too naïve… He would not give up such information without putting a fight, or it would be too damned easy… "What you are looking for is here," Makarov told her, holding yet another DSM. "Ryuka, darling, you are young and too trusting…"

"Just give it to me, and I will do everything that you ask of me," she told him, reaching for her Desert Eagle. There were only the two of them there in his apartment, hence, it was highly probable that she would be able to get the DSM and kill him. She could end it once and for all. However, she knew that he had already seen what she was about to do.

"Darling, there must always be a price for everything," he replied, placing the DSM upon the polished teak computer table. "If you would have me release MacTavish and Price, then you would have to be mine, in every sense of the word!"

Ryuka said nothing, and shot the Ming dynasty vase beside him. "This is my answer, Makarov," she said, her dark eyes filled the fiery anger that he had known a year ago… It made her all the more beautiful, and it made her all the more alluring. She had walked into a trap, and she knew that she had to find her own way out of it. "Take it or leave it…"

Makarov had already known that she had somehow contacted her two Captains. He knew Ryuka more that she could even guess. When he had taken her from Dushanbe, she had been so broken that she could not eat, and that she could not sleep… She was so broken that she would even look to him for comfort and solace. He had tried so hard to bring back that light into her eyes, but he had failed, no matter what.

But that night in Shanghai, something happened. Halfway through the exhibition, Ryuka had changed, although it had been subtle. She was bolder, more confident… Her strength had come from her family, those that she had loved, and now that her strength had returned, there was only one explanation…

"Oh, I would take it, and more…" he told her. "If I could plant two doctors into the MSF, do you think that I cannot plant another spy into your ranks?"

* * *

MacTavish felt cold, almost-circular metal on the top of his head. "Ryurei…" he murmured. "Traitor…"

Ryurei could only chuckle coldly. "I am doing this only for my parents," she told him. "If Makarov could have hunted her down from the very day that the nuclear bomb exploded in the Middle East, he could easily found me as well… From the very moment he knew that Ryuka-chan was the one who tortured and killed his men, he had taken our parents hostage!"

* * *

"What have I done to you, Makarov?" Ryuka asked Makarov, aiming now at his head. "You imprison Uncle Price, you burned the lands of my ancestors, you took me as your prisoner, and now you turn my sister against the whole world by kidnapping my parents? Have you no heart?"

Makarov walked towards her, and tried to lower her arms, but she took a step back, remaining in range. "Darling, you left me no choice… Time after time, I gave you ways to escape, but you continued to haunt me… I had to make sure that you do not interfere with my plans... But now, you are a gift."

Ryuka did not need to tell him what he wanted to do. If she had been a fool, she would not be a bigger fool than she had been… "You would kill Vorshevsky and take his place as the President of Russia," she said, "And after America, you would destroy the UK, Germany, France… Every single country that has done grievance to you!"

"Indeed, you are a clever girl, Ryuka," Makarov praised. "However, it does not matter. You are out of options… Decide now, to help me seize power, or to stand by your lofty ideals and principles, and watch the man you love being killed by your own sister…"

The screen of the computer before her flickered on when Makarov pressed a sequence of keys on the keyboard, and she could see MacTavish being held at gunpoint by Ryurei. "Ryuka-chan, forgive me," her older sister apologized. "He has Oka-chan and Daddy… He would not let them go unless I did what he said…"

Ryuka could not blame her sister. She could never blame her sister. She would have done the same if she had been in Ryurei's place, no matter what happened. "Release my parents, Makarov," she pleaded, bringing down the Desert Eagle, black eyes looking at MacTavish. "They have nothing to do with this. If you are using my sister to corner me, she has already completed her end of the deal…"

Makarov seemed pleased at those words, and pressed another key. In an instant, what had seemed to be a solid wall was lifted up, revealing a cage-like structure. Right in it, were Mr. and Mrs. Algren, who were equally devastated to see their youngest daughter there. They had been bound and gagged, weak, and unable to fight back. "Ryuka Algren, you are indeed the child of great warriors," he said, "Your father was the Commandant of the US Marines, while your mother, the Director of the Tokushu Sakusen Gun… But how would they react, when both their precious daughters are now working for me?"

"Makarov, leave them alone!" Price shouted. "Her family doesn't have anything to do with this, either!"

The Russian completely disregarded Price's words. "What would it be, darling?" he asked Ryuka further. "Continue to be a loyal soldier, and you would risk the lives of those that you love, but if you come with me, not only will you have a lifetime of power, but you will also save them..."

Makarov was a cruel man… Ryuka did not even have a choice at all in this matter. She could only choose one outcome and one outcome only. MacTavish knew that she could see him, somehow, and gave her the signs for what she had told him before… "Fight another day…" he said with his fingers. "I love you…" At this point of time, they could no longer choose the circumstances that they would fight in... The most important thing was to survive, because if they died, they could not change anything.

Ryuka nodded, and walked towards Makarov. Right then and there, before her parents, she threw down her Desert Eagle and wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, fully, just as she would have done to MacTavish. "Free all of them, and you will have me."

With that, the doors to the cage were opened, and a gunshot was heard...

* * *

HAN: OOOO! Big twist, innit? How did y'all like this change from the original fic?


	23. Part 2: The Legacy of the Sisters

Ryuka could not take it any more. This man, standing right before her, had taken more than just the pride of her ancestors, and the peace of the world, he had taken her sister from her, her brothers in arms… "Why us?" she asked him that night, after her parents had been set free, and after they had received word that Mr. and Mrs. Algren were already safe with Price and MacTavish. "Why my sister and I?"

The stone-cold expression upon Makarov's face had already melted away, but it was an expression that Ryuka had deeply preferred, compared to the one he wore now. She had no enmity with him; she had only been trying to do what was expected of her, and what she had put upon herself to do. And now because of their duties, her sister was dead, having killed herself with a shot right to her own heart out of remorse…

"Darling," Makarov murmured, reaching for her hand, but she did not give it. "If it were not for the two of you, the world could have been a much, much more different place…" Five years ago, in the Middle East, Ryuka and Ryurei had discovered the operating station for the nuclear weapon that Zakhaev had given to Khaled al-Asad, manned by his own personnel, loyal to him and him alone… That fool had told them that they would have the final revenge that he, the Shadow of Zakhaev, would bring the Ultranationalists to victory…

The lives of 30,000 Marines had been claimed that day, but because of their quick detection, a question mark about him had already been raised. He was supposed to be a hidden combatant of the war, the man who pulled the strings from background, and the two Daughters of the Dragon had revealed him to the world… Because of what they had discovered, the Ultranationalists had been linked immediately to al-Asad's coup, and Zakhaev perished as a result… And when Ryuka joined the Task Force 141, she had brought what she had found to them, and with their resources, they had quickly gotten into his trail… What happened that day was an eventuality that he had already foreseen a long, long time ago. It was just the minor details that had changed.

Like the fact that he was able to break the spirits of the Algren line by burning their ancestral grounds, and pinpointing exactly which child of that line was the one in the Task Force 141, and that she was right next to him, baring to him every single inch of her soul… It took him five years to discover who she was, just as if had taken her five years to try to stop him… She had failed, miserably, but he, he had gotten the upper hand.

"We were merely following orders, Makarov!" Ryuka reasoned, her dark eyes now welled with unshed tears. "Moreover, it was our duty to restore the peace of the world, it was what we were raised and trained to do!" If he would put the blame of all his failures upon others, those who had been blamed would do the same as well. It was a vicious and endless cycle.

Makarov placed his hand on her cheek, and his lips to her forehead. "All this will pass," he told her, almost reassuringly. "Ryuka, you must learn that in war, sacrifices must be made in order to achieve victory…"

"If this is the price of victory, I would not even consider it…" She could handle the loss of her team members in the line of duty, it was a sacrifice that all of them were willing to make, she could even handle the fact that Shepherd had betrayed them to achieve his own glory, but when she knew that Makarov had been aware of all this, that they were only pawns in his chessboard, sent one by one to their deaths, in a sequence planned meticulously, she could not accept it. Not when her family was involved, not when Price and MacTavish were pulled into this mess as well. "You sacrifice others in order to achieve your own ends… what different are you than Shepherd?"

"I've never wanted to differentiate myself from Shepherd, darling," he told her. "Nor have I ever painted myself as a saint…" Ryuka was an intelligent woman, even if she had been slightly idealistic… "Do not worry, Ryuka, no harm will ever come to you when I am here with you…"

She reached for the Desert Eagle again, but did nothing else. "I could defend myself even before I met you," she told him, looking away from him. From the balcony, she could see a roaring fire being lit, and a few people surrounding it… "It is my sister's pyre," she told Makarov when he put an arm around her. "We cremate our dead, particularly if they have died in combat in a foreign land… That way, their souls can return to our homes faster."

No more… Ryuka swore to herself. No more would she allow herself to reveal such weakness to Makarov, no more would she allow herself to be used by him as a mere pawn, to bring about more chaos than the world had already suffered, just because he knew that she would be as docile as a cornered lamb when he threatened her with the lives of those she had loved with all her heart.

"Do not waste the efforts of your sister to keep your family alive, darling," Makarov told her, both his arms now encircling her shoulders. Once again, she could feel him kiss the back of her neck and the line of her shoulder… "One day, you will see them again… I am sure of it. You love your family, and I would do everything I can to make them my own as well, but only in time."

She did not answer, and continued to watch the smoke from the pyre rise into heaven… After a long moment of silence, she turned towards him and asked him, "Is vengeance all that you crave for?"

"All that and one more, darling," he answered, tipping her chin, so that he could look into her eyes more clearly. "What is the hunter, without the hunted, Ryuka?" He took her by the waist, and set her hands on his shoulders. "Ever since we have met in Pyongyang, I have thought: _what would it be like to have held the Red Dragon like how I did that night_. And now, here you are…"

There was no turning back; even if he knew the dangers that she had posed in the days after, when his threats against her were no longer potent… "May you burn in hell, Makarov," she cursed, and turned away, gathering her things, and selected the bedroom closest to her.

* * *

"I don't get it," MacTavish said, after Ryurei's funeral. He had only known her for a few days, but already, there was a sense of familiarity with her… Perhaps it was because she was Ryuka's sister? However, he knew that they had to focus on the problem currently before them. Makarov was now more aggressive than ever, and Ryuka was now already deeper into his clutches… They did not know who they could trust, nor how they were supposed to stop him. He turned to Mr. Algren, who was more or less Price's age, and asked, "Sir, if Makarov captured you and Mrs. Algren a month ago, how come Shepherd doesn't know anything about it? Weren't you comrades?"

Mr. Algren heard that name and sighed. "Son, he's been disillusioned for far longer than you now. He'd do anything to get what he wants; if it weren't for you, who knows what those two psychopaths would have created?" A long time ago, when he and Price were still enthusiastic young soldiers like Ryuka and MacTavish, they had met the older Shepherd, who had been only a Colonel, and by a strange chance of fate, had become great friends… But Shepherd, ever since that fiasco five years ago, had changed into a different man altogether.

"MacTavish, I know that you love our daughter," Mrs. Algren told MacTavish, "But now, you must place everything behind you, as she has. You must make sure that Makarov does not take full control of the Russian army. With his talents, they will be stronger than ever, and no one would dare to rise up against them. The United States of America must not fall, or so would the rest of the world."

MacTavish knew what Ryuka's parents were talking about. "I understand," he told Mrs. Algren, and turned to Nikolai. "Nikolai, I want you to get Mr. and Mrs. Algren out of Russia as fast as you can… Make sure that they're safe in Kyoto before you head back here."

Nikolai nodded, and said, "I'll be ready to leave in three hours. But…"

"Once Makarov has Reddie and he knows that she won't retaliate, he won't do a thing to us," Price told Nikolai, sensing his concern. Five years as Makarov's prisoner had taught him more about the man that he ever wanted to learn. Makarov was coldhearted and relentless, but more importantly, he was confident of his own stratagems to the point of arrogance. Whatever he had released, he would not even take a second look of. He turned to Ryuka's parents and said, "You'll be safe, don't worry."

"Take care, John," Mr. Algren told Price. "Bring Ryuka-chan home for us… She's the only daughter that we have left…"

Price put a hand on Mr. Algren's shoulder. "I will, don't worry. Soap will make sure of that."

* * *

"_Welcome to the USSOCOM, girls," Shepherd told Ryuka and Ryurei, armed and ready for combat. They were right in the desert, standing before Shepherd's makeshift office, their father standing near them. "From now on, you're on indefinite loan to us, and you receive orders from me and Lt. Gen. Algren, am I clear?"_

"_Clear, sir!" the two of them answered in unison. Parted by only a year between them, the two Algren girls looked exactly the same, save for the color of their hair. The two of them were trained to be the perfect Spec-Ops soldiers, tested to be the best on the world for each of their chosen fields. They would prove to be two soldiers that the Japanese Tokushu Sakusen Gun's finest, and were now transferred to the USSOCOM. _

_Mr. Algren smiled at his two daughters and nodded proudly. It was pure fate that they had ended up in the unit of their mother before coming to his, and the world knew that it had been all due to their talents and abilities. _

_Two weeks later, they had brought 30,000 Marines with them to invade that small, obscure little Middle East country, an operation that would end in nothing less than a disaster… "Reddie, Blackie, you're to survey the outlying villages for any hidden threats," Shepherd told the two of them. "We think that there's more to this than some Islamist militants taking over a teeny-tiny sandbox."_

_The two of them nodded, and immediately headed to their destination via helicopter. , carrying M4A1s and their katana. Houses were swept, most of them abandoned… That country had been small, its people were in no meaning part of the world's hardcore poor, or ranked among the most devoutly Islamist countries. However, the OpFor would change all of it, and they could only hope that its citizens had already fled into safety… _

_An untold amount of time passed, and still, there had been no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Nothing… Nothing… until they heard someone speaking in Russian. It was not much of a problem, with several Middle East countries being former Soviet nations… But this country was never conquered by Russia… _

_The sisters traced the voice to a small hut-like structure, and as they thought, there was only one person there. "The nuclear missile is ready to be deployed, sir," he said to an unseen person, most likely through another person far, far away. They could not kill this man, nom they needed him alive. He pressed a button on a console, and the display indicated that the nuclear weapon would be deployed in fifteen minutes… "We will have our revenge…"_

"_Papa Dragon, this is Black Dragon," Ryurei commed Shepherd and Mr. Algren. "We have a nuclear, code-black situation here… ETA fifteen minutes. Evac all personnel immediately!" _

"_Reddie, Blackie, get the hell out of there now!" they had forgotten if the one who said those words was Shepherd or their father, but they remembered they were in a mad dash to get back to their helicopter, after knocking the Russian unconscious and hauling him along with them. _

_That night, Ryuka presided over the interrogation of the Russian, before Shepherd and her father, in Russian, and in English. That man had a rather low pain threshold, and was already shifting in and out of consciousness with just a few volt's worth of electric shocks. However, he was highly loyal to his superiors and did not reveal a thing… _

"_The Shadow and Executioner of Zakhaev… would bring us to victory…"_

_Having said those words, the man bit his tongue and died then and there. So, Zakhaev had a part in this… But who was his Shadow? From what they knew, the Four Horsemen of the Ultranationalists were Khaled al-Asad, Imran Zakhaev himself, his son, Viktor, as well as an individual that the CIA had taken down a few years back… This man was not a Horseman… who was he?

* * *

_

"If you are the Shadow of Zakhaev, why are you his Executioner?" Ryuka asked Makarov, stopping herself from shuddering as he kissed her lightly.

Something less than a smile, but more than a smirk graced Makarov's features. "Tomorrow, you will find that out, darling," he told her, and pulled her closer to him as they lay on the magnificent king-sized bed, the only luxurious-looking piece of furniture in the apartment. He had entered the room that she had claimed for herself, and carried her to his room. He did not take her that night, save for a few kisses her and there, and she had been highly grateful for it.

But when Ryuka heard those words, a deep, sinking feeling washed over her. She would not like what the dawn brought her... Not that dawn, when the sun was red, like the color of blood...

* * *

HAN: How didja like that? Tell me all about it in a review!


	24. Part 2: The Exchange

President Boris Vorshevsky.

Russian Federation – Ultranationalist Party

Moscow Kremlin – Presidential Residence

* * *

The night had been silent, but the President of the Russian Federation could not sleep. He may not have fought in the field for five years running, but he was still in constant alert… He always had been in constant alert. Which man of power would not fear that one day their lives would end when it was still in their grasp?

However, Vorshevsky knew that the power in his hands was not truly his. It was part of Zakhaev's plan, a backup to his original designs, where Makarov was the true leader of the Russian Federation… And of course, as a "true-hearted follower" of Zakhaev, Vorshevsky did every single thing that he had been told to by his comrade, no matter how unwilling he had been to follow them. Makarov was not called "Zakhaev's Executioner" for nothing.

In his own private quarters, where his dear wife was sleeping soundly by his side, he heard the door's locks click open, and so followed the door. A figure, a woman's figure appeared before him, holding a highly distinctive M4A1, and the strangest of all weapons: a Japanese sword. "Who are…"

He could not finish his sentence, for the woman placed the very tip of her sword mere inches above his heart. Any wrong move and he would be done for. "Come with me," she said. It was a voice that he had never heard before, but he knew that he had to obey her, no matter what. "I wish to talk to you…"

Well, the assassin wanted to talk to him. How great. "We can say anything here…" he stuttered, but was answered only by the feel of the woman's weapon right on his skin. Vorshevsky could have sworn he detected his body losing a drop of blood. "I have a bunker… follow me."

Silently, they left the room, and arrived in a bunker hidden behind a bookcase. Well, it was a highly clichéd place to hide in, but at those times, Vorshevsky did not wish to put up any arguments at all. The woman removed the balaclava that she had been wearing, revealing her face to him. It was stained with tears… those black eyes of the night held an untold amount of sadness, and Vorshevsky was confused. What the hell was going on there?

"I come on behalf of those that I love, and the peace of the world, Mr. Vorshevsky," she told him, placing her weapons upon the table. Under the bright, florescent lights of the bunker, the light reflected off her katana was almost blinding, but it did not mean that he could not see the flag-patches upon the catsuit that she was wearing, amongst the other militaristic emblems that he could see.

"You're from the Task Force 141," Vorshevsky said. He remembered Makarov warning him of anyone bearing that emblem, the skull above the winged sword, that they were to be taken into custody immediately.

She nodded, and sighed. "I am Lieutenant Ryuka Algren, one of the remaining three combatants of the 141," she told him, "And I have a proposition for you…"

Makarov did not know about the microphone that MacTavish had given her. All Task Force 141 communications devices had been recorded, and Shepherd had been killed before Shadow Company could have done anything to their landbase, and doubtless, he died with the secrets of its location. Thus, she had been able to retrieve the sound files from the dinner a few days previous, and she relayed each and every single word to Vorshevsky.

"Makarov plans to use this against you," she told the President. "Do you think that because Zakhaev was a father to him, Makarov would have done everything according to Zakhaev's wishes? He plans to eradicate every single country that headed that human rights commission that wanted him out of the former Red Army... He will take command of the Russian Armed Forces to eradicate each of those nations one by one."

Still, Vorshevsky could not bring himself to trust her. "How do I know that he didn't send you to kill me instead?" Makarov was man alike a double-edged sword, and there was now no way to tell him whether she was lying or not. "You're the one who Makarov had his eyes on..."

Her dark eyes, they turned towards him, seeming instantly filled with anger and rage. "I will never compromise my own honor and my country for that man!" Her voice was rising, the mask of calmness quickly slipping away. Vorshevsky, being a politician, he could read a person easier than the person being read reads themselves. "When I am with him... I could not even mourn the death of my own sister for fear that he will kill my parents... If you know that Makarov had his eyes on me, you would know what he has done to me..."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend..." Vorshevsky said his voice almost satirical. "One of his most favourite quotes..." One thing that Makarov had done, despite seizing all the actual executive power he had, was that he told everything in his mind to him. Vorshevsky, like Imram Zakhaev, had watch Makarov mature from being that hot-headed soldier into that cold, calculating terrorist-politician that he was. The President of Russia let out a deep sigh, and said, "We are now on the same boat now, we cannot let it capsize."

"Do not worry," Ryuka replied. "I will protect you from Makarov, but I have a request in exchange..." Vorshevsky, at the promise that his life would not be taken, was willing to pay any price that she would name. He nodded his head, and she said, "Expose Shepherd as Makarov's accomplice, clear the name of the Task Force 141."

They shook on it, a silent and understandable promise. "I will do everything that I can, sir. I will stake my life if I have to." And Vorshevsky hoped that it was so. He did not want to die anytime soon...

* * *

Evening the next day...

* * *

Vladimir R. Makarov

Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

Red Square, Moscow.

* * *

They were in the Red Square, where the setting sun of the winter's sky had made the surrounding areas truly red... Makarov walked right to the front of the crowds with Ryuka's arm around his. The Russian President was expected to deliver a speech that evening, to address the fact that the Russian soldiers were still unable to take Washington D.C, to explain to their people that their forces were still going strong, that the Americans would not invade Russia in retaliation.

"We are at a time of great change," Vorshevsky said to the crowds that had gathered there. "However, we must have faith in our sons and in our daughters, those that have fought day and night... Our armies will show the world that we are not weak as the leaders of the world have thought... We will show them that we are strong!"

Ryuka listened to those words and rolled her eyes. "The words of a politician can never be trusted," she said, words that caused him to smirk, and kiss her on her temple. She was young, she was strong in her beliefs, and more importantly, she was in mourning. Her sister was dead no more than a day, and she deserved a few ill-placed words...

"Patience, darling," he told her. Although she was a seasoned warrior, she had to learn the ways of being a leader. He saw a bright future in her, and he knew that she had the potential to lead more than just an international task force of elites... If they were in the world of antiquity, Ryuka could be considered to be of the blue-blood of war, judging by her linage... She was born for greatness, and he would slowly groom her to be a leader of his new order one day. "There are many things that one can gain from reading between the lines."

"I have forgotten..." she said, turning towards him. "You are a politician as well..." Makarov nodded, and told her to continue listening to Vorshevsky's speech.

"We will ensure a bright future for our people, from the ashes of the Civil War... A new beginning will come!"

Sometimes, Ryuka really wondered if the Vorshevsky that she had seen the night previous was the real one. Perhaps he was the perfect politician, the greatest actor, knowing that Makarov was surely among the thousands of people that came to witness his speech. That man knew Makarov, and more than anything, he knew how that man would act. Perhaps, it he had that already seen Makarov, and that was why he had that facade of strength.

Her mother had once told her before, that the best actor was not an actor that can convey all the emotions of the world using only a mask, but the best actor, was a person who could turn his or her face into a mask. And that was what she was doing now. That was what the President of the Russian Federation was doing.

For her parents, for her Uncle Price and for MacTavish... Ryuka knew that she could not even allow Makarov to know anything else than her presumed loyalty to him. No matter how much she now hated him, no matter how much she wanted him dead, she knew that as long as the name of the Task Force 141 had not been cleared, as long as her dead comrades had not been avenged, she had to remain in this dark exchange, making one deal after the other... The mourning would come later. The sadness was there, it would always be there, but it could not be shown to him, or he would use it against her, as the last time he had done in Shanghai.

"Makarov... these people are all innocent," she told him, placing a hand on his arm. Of course, the Americans were now bitter enemies with the Russians, and she was as much an American as she was a Japanese, but she knew that innocent blood was innocent blood. She was a soldier, and she had killed many, but none of them had been innocents. "If you would threaten Vorshevsky, threaten him later..."

"They think that they could take the lives of our people, they think that they would be able to raid our lands... But no more!"

The crowd was getting more and more excited. Vorshevsky had always been a highly charismatic man... But Ryuka knew that it was all for show. Her dark eyes, they turned to all corners, and saw not the Russia where she had imagined, where communist leaders rallied the people who knew no better... But like Stalin, Lenin, and the many other greats before him, Vorshevsky was still able to fill the Red Square with thousands of enthusiastic people... No wonder the Ultranationalists had taken full control of Russia.

Being a person of dual nationality, of both countries that had earned the eternal wrath of Russia, Ryuka knew that she could not be there. If they saw the flag-patches upon her arms, now concealed within the sleek winter coat that she was wearing, it would be she alone against thousands of others... She clutched the handle of her katana tightly, and remained silent.

"Countries like Japan, America and the United Kingdom, they will fall one by one!"

"Vorshevsky is creating a scene greater than you did," Ryuka warned. "What is more dangerous, Makarov? The faith of a united nation, or the cold brutality of one leader?" Makarov nodded, and motioned for her to continue to watch. They would have to act soon, and through the crowds, his most trusted henchmen gave him the documents that he and General Lee had signed in Shanghai...

"Ryuka, stay close to me," he told her, at the ending of the speech, which was finished with a round of thundering applause and cheering. She did not need to him to tell her twice. Apart from her katana, she had her Desert Eagle, holstered onto her thigh, and just like her katana, it gave her a sense of security... Because she remembered that MacTavish had handed it to her, and had fastened there himself... It was a reminder. A reminder of who she was, of who she still had to protect.

And when Makarov climbed onto the stage, the crowds fell silent. So silent that the Red Square could even hear the click of his perfectly shined shoes upon the makeshift stage. "And what a fine evening it is, to finally be able to speak to my countrymen once again..."

Silence turned into whispers, and whispers, into gasps. Vladimir Makarov had shown himself, the up and coming politician, turned into the bloodthirsty terrorist. Immediately helicopters, FSB and other armed personnel rushed to the scene, but no one dared to do anything. Makarov could have already planned an attack, and they might already have been caught under a dark trap that they could never have seen...

A charismatic smile, a boyish ruffle of his hair... Makarov had turned into the man that he once was... "My brothers and my sisters, my children, and my fathers and mothers... I come to you today, to expose the lies of lies... I know that you may or may not believe me, but you will have no choice but to listen to me."

Suddenly, they were visible to the five thousand people there: Men, carrying guns at various places. If any wrong move had been made, they would all die within moments.

* * *

HAN: Ryuka's lack of emotion is not because I have neglected to show that. It's because of the situation that she was in. Of course, I hope that you have faith in me that I would bring Ryuka in all her anger to you in the future chapters. And also, if you're reviewing, I would like you to give me what you think about Makarov this time around. ^.^ I'll be attending a wedding this weekend, so I think that I won't be able to update daily for these few days, sorry! ^.^


	25. Part 2: The Confrontation

Makarov had interrupted Vorshevsky's speech with one of his own. Perhaps, this would be the only predictable part of him… However, she did not have any interest on what he was about to say. Having to have to listen to useless propaganda was not what she was interested in. She crossed her arms, and took in a deep breath as Makarov ranted on about their need to stay focused and united against those who seek to destroy their country.

Used to ignoring the prattle of politicians, Ryuka's mind immediately switched off from the contents of his iterations, and started to look around. Of course there was fear in the air, and of course, there were armed men prowling the area, either Makarov's, and that of the government's.

But then, she could feel it, MacTavish's Ki. She could not see him, but she could sense it, still as strong as it had been. Being on the stage, he would be able to see her, and she knew what she had to do. However, as Vorshevsky had been unsure of her, she could not be sure if Vorshevsky was doing anything that might harm her as well…

_Captain, I am alright,_ she signed to MacTavish, _and we would have to wing it on this one.

* * *

_

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141 – Wanted Fugitive

Red Square, Moscow

* * *

MacTavish saw Ryuka's message as clear as the imminent danger had been. Out of a sudden, members of the Russian Spetsnaz came out of nowhere, all aiming their guns at the men there to protect the Russian President, who seemed so scared that the mewling kitten could have given him a heart attack.

And so they would wing it, probably the first time since the formation of the Task Force 141, where each and every mission prior to that had been carefully planned, and meticulously executed. This was because each and every mission prior to that had virtually no room for any result less than perfection, and even then, more often than not, they would have to pay for it with blood.

It was ironic, if not anything, when perhaps their lives, and that of thousands of others depended on them, they would have to wing it… And the worse thing was that they did not know whose side was who on. "Wait…" Price told him when he reached for a pistol that he had with him. There was more to scene that met the eyes, and Price knew that above all, they needed to wait.

And then, they saw it. A glint of light in a nearby building, a transference of shadows that they knew all too-well. Before the last light of the sun had disappeared from the Red Square, MacTavish and Price spotted the building where snipers had been hidden. "He's had them aimed on Reddie…" MacTavish denounced, and looked at his former superior. "We'll have to get to them fast, before anything happens to her, or the President."

Price nodded. It seems like his inhibitions towards Ryuka and MacTavish's relationship had been utterly useless. The two of them were highly objective in the field, both remaining highly professional and impersonal as they could be when their duties called for it. And the older Captain could not be more proud of them. "Here, I know a shorter way…"

* * *

"How can you trust this man, my countrymen, when he was the one who would sell the greatest treasures that we have, and currently need above others, to China!" A loud gasp chorused across the Red Square as Makarov held up the contracts that had been signed between Vorshevsky and General Lee. "This fiend, who has claimed to protect you when you need him to most, has exchanged two hundred units of Sukhoi Su-34 for a million hectares of volcanic land all around Indonesia!"

Vorshevsky looked at Makarov, his eyes immediately widened, even though he had been already alerted to this horrendous accusation by Ryuka. The woman nodded at him to continue acting, and he did. "There was no such deal!" he exclaimed at the top of his voice. "He lies!"

Makarov, however, was adamant, and continued to speak. "This is the man who has promised to protect you, but would only sell you out to the highest bidder!"

In times of war, the people of a nation were all afraid, afraid that they would die at any one time. In times of war, they would unite under the banner of one leader, but when that person seemed to have betrayed them, to have left them when they needed him the most, they would rise against him, and, they would side with the next most able leader.

"I am sorry, Boris," Makarov apologized to Vorshevsky, "But I am afraid that Russia has spoken." With the M9 in his hand, Makarov got ready to execute the Russian President then and there, but before he was even able to fire, a loud gunshot was heard, and then, severe pain, alike burning fire flared all over his leg.

"Russia had not spoken even a word, Makarov," Vorshevsky replied, walking backwards slowly, moving away from Makarov, who looked around him to find out where that shot had come from. "If you think that you can accuse me of embezzling the war-assets of my own country, I am not as much as a fool you deem me to be."

Ryuka… That shot had been fired from a Desert Eagle. There was no one else, because Russians did not use NATO weaponry. It had to be her. "How does it feel, Makarov, to be shot down by the enemy when you are not looking?" she asked, her melodious voice filled with poison. "This would be the first that would come from me, but it will definitely not be the last."

With those words, she shot him in the shoulder. "Do you think that my eyes are blind, darling?" he asked her, hissing in pain as he tried to stand, with the support of his henchmen. "One woman and a weak leader of a failing nation cannot overcome me," he told her. With those words, he took aim again, and shot a middle-aged man standing in the crowds. This was a turning point, and the people in the Red Square scattered, leaving only those on the stage, and the immediately surrounding area. "I should have known that you would still fight for any chance to return to your beloved Captain."

"I would fight for any chance to regain all that I have lost, Makarov," Ryuka told him, and hounded Vorshevsky down the stage. "This is nothing compared to what you have done to me."

Makarov laughed, and not the bitter chuckle that she had been so used to hearing from him. "I thought that you could be molded into a capable warrior and leader," he told her. "But it seems that like all Americans, your mind proved to be too thick to even accept the simplest of ideas…"

"Well, forgive me, then," Ryuka apologized curtly, and delivered another shot to Makarov's arm, causing him to drop his weapon. "For I have never even remembered a time when I had anything to learn from you."

Makarov did not answer, but nodded his head. Within seconds, Vorshevsky, who had been cowering behind her, was shot in the abdomen by an unseen sniper. "Ryuka, you must have known by now that I am not who that you think I am at all. Rage may drive me, but it does not cloud my thoughts at all. Do you think that I was not notified of your little visit to our dear friend Boris last night?"

By then, Ryuka did not allow Makarov to speak further. She could not allow him to poison her own mind against her any longer. "Speak what you want, Makarov," she hissed, continuing her aim upon the center of his head. "Do not think that you are the only one who has been dealt with the cruelest hand Fate can give you."

She could not sense the Ki that MacTavish had, not anymore, but it did not matter. If she was the one who would take Makarov done single-handedly, she would gladly do so, or she would die trying. "Darling, if you continue with this useless tirade, I would have no choice but to kill you," Makarov warned, his voice almost tender. It was sickening.

"I would rather you kill me from the very start, Makarov," she told him, and pulled the trigger. However, she was too slow, and a bullet from one of his henchmen had landed on her side, narrowly missing her internal organs. With that, Makarov walked towards her, and raised her head by grabbing her hair. "I am not the last barrier to your success," she cursed. "MacTavish and Uncle Price…"

Once again, Makarov pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that he was all too willing to give, silencing her mid-sentence. "You are so beautiful, darling," he told her, caressing her jawline when the kiss broke after she slapped him away with what strength she had. "It would be a shame to kill you indeed."

Ryuka rolled her eyes in utter defiance. "I highly doubt that," she deadpanned, looking into those cold, heterochromic eyes once again. "I would be with my sister shortly. That in itself is a comfort."

"Oh, but darling, I would make sure that while your death is imminent, it would be prolonged until I say it comes to you…" Makarov was not a man of mercy to those who had betrayed them, but he had already known that Ryuka would contact Vorshevsky in secret from the start. He did not need to even locate any single one of the cameras within the Moscow Kremlin. By the way Vorshevsky had acted; he already knew that Ryuka had somehow assured the Russian President that she would insure his life and position against him. "Your torture of my men has still yet been unaccounted for."

Slowly, Makarov unbuttoned her winter-coat and unsheathed her katana that she had kept hidden. "Some of them had been one of my most trusted men, Ryuka, my brothers from even my days in the Red Army… If you wish to continue to be my enemy, then I wish that you would forgive me for doing the same onto you…"

The first cut had been virtually painless. A cut on her forearm, but then came a second, a third, and three on her thigh… He was going to bleed her to death, right then and there, with her own weapon. "Kuso… yaro…" Ryuka cursed, her voice getting slack. Even her vision was blurred, and she was slowly losing the ability to collect her mind towards killing him.

Drop by drop, blood left her body, while the cold winter air quickly seeped into her wounds. She winced in pain, but when she had opened her dark eyes, she saw Makarov falling backwards, as if someone had shot him… But when she was in range of a Desert Eagle against him, and she could not have delivered that bullet, who could? It came right at the direction of the sniper who had almost killed Vorshevsky…

MacTavish… it had to be MacTavish. He was no longer in the Red Square… Clutching at her side, Ryuka kicked her katana away from Makarov's hand, and stood up despite the searing pain that she had felt throughout her body. "I have spent five years hunting you, Makarov," she told him. "The bloods of your victims are crying out for vengeance, and I will not stop them from getting what they want."

With her Desert Eagle still in her hand, she shot him exactly where she had been injured. "You have taken a hundred of my brothers as well; we are now even, except for one…" Makarov was now rendered immobile, and he could only watch as Ryuka stood above him, ready to kill him within a moment's notice.

* * *

However, things never went as they both had planned…

* * *

Before she had been able to finish her sentence, more of the Russian Armed Forces came into the scene. Now that the President's life seemed to be unthreatened, they were able to enter the situation. Of course, Ryuka's identity was already out in the open. She was part of the recently-outlawed Task Force 141, wanted by the US for "unspeakable crimes of war", particularly the assassination of Lieutenant-General Shepherd, and she had to be deported back into United States of America quickly.

"I would not incarcerate those who had saved my life without just reason," Vorshevsky said to the FSB combatants when they got ready to take Ryuka into custody. "There are another two, locate them, and give her the best treatment you have."

Ryuka was relieved. "Thank you," she told the Russian President, and was immediately placed upon a stretcher, by Vorshevsky's orders." As she was being transferred into an ambulance, she could see the FSB taking Makarov away, and into an armored truck. Heavily injured, he would not pose a threat to anyone, not for a few good weeks.

Hopefully by then, they would have already come out with a solution to stop him.

Permanently.

* * *

HAN: And all of you thought that Ryuka would not feel anything... The worst torture for Makarov is soon to come, and so is Miryu. ^.^


	26. Part 2: The Ending

"_Makarov does have a weakness," Vorshevsky told Ryuka just when she was about to leave the Moscow Kremlin. "His family was killed in an a bloody gunfight between two ethnic races a long time ago, a fight that they did not have quarrel in at all. He filled the void of the emptiness with the rage and hatred in his heart, and looked upon Zakhaev as a father… If you wish to utterly destroy Makarov, you must first destroy his family."_

There were many hurts that Makarov had done to the world. If one was to count for every single life affected or marred by his actions, the auditing process would be utterly limitless. But there had been two hurts that he had done to Ryuka, two that the war could not even, no matter what had happened. He had burnt the plains of her ancestors, and he had caused the death of her sister.

Perhaps they were similar, in that they both held their family to uttermost importance, and that was why Ryuka had taken such a decision. She would not consider another option, not when this chance was laid out so clearly in the open. It was a chance that she knew that she had to take, no matter what the repercussions were, moral or not.

"I have never asked you for anything, John," Ryuka told MacTavish when she had made her decision whilst she had been recovering from her wounds in an undisclosed military medical facility in Russia. By that time, the war had already been stopped with the capture of Makarov, and by the power of the Russian President, evidence was found that the Task Force 141 had been innocent. One of the first measures taken, had been the pardon of Captains John MacTavish and John Price, as well as Lieutenant Ryuka Algren, but that had not been enough for Ryuka. "I only ask you that you understand what I am about to do."

MacTavish held her hand in his, and sighed. He knew it deep in his heart that among all that he had known who had spent the last five years taking Makarov down, Ryuka had been the one who was cut the most deeply. Taking her hands in his, MacTavish knew that what they were doing, although had been right by her, would have another side effect… "What about the kid?" he asked her, "When he or she grows up knowing that Makarov is the father…"

"_Our _child will know nothing," she told him, caressing the back of his palm with her thumb. "It will be ours… Besides, you know it well that we cannot have children by our own." Being members of the Task Force 141, they were viewed as weapons of war, as well as the greatest assets the world's militaries could have. Thus, they were required to take stringent health-tests more frequently than normal people had to, and it was discovered that MacTavish, although by no means, was impotent, had very low chances of being a father.

He looked at Ryuka and said nothing else. What she was about to do was cruel, and was nothing different from twisting the knife that was already embedded in one's own chest. But he knew that he could not expect her from doing anything that would prove that she was only human. Ryuka was one who loved, and hated, with utter passion, and he knew that she would never let it rest, until her own chosen method of closure had been executed. "What you're gonna do will break him more than he'd broken you, Ryuka," he told her, drawing her into his arms. "You don't want that on your conscience."

"Then our child would be my salvation. All children are not born evil… Our child will not be like its father," Ryuka replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. He was now stroking the small of her back, comforting her as best he could. If that was the decision that she was going to make, then he would stand by her, no matter what it took. All he knew was that she was going to have a child, and that he loved her. Hence, he would love that child as well. "We have to do this while he is still unconscious… Or else, he might see through it."

"I hope that you know what you're doing," MacTavish told her. "For the both of you…"

* * *

Vladimir R. Makarov

Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

High Security Prison, Location Classified

* * *

Ryuka had a clear memory indeed. She had shot him in the exact same places where his men had shot her, right down to where that sniper had done so as well… He did not know why she had left him alive, but he was glad that he still had a chance to fight for his escape… No single cell could hold him, not when he was not willingly captured. He still had things to do, and nations to destroy, and would not be hampered as anything so little as a few wounds here and there. They were about halfway healed, anyways.

However, he was really in no condition to fight, much less reach for that bottle of whiskey right before him. But, he really did not give a damn at all, as long as the thing was able to fill his time, and still his thoughts. Soon, he heard the doors away from his cell open and close, crisp footsteps soon followed, and the silhouette of a woman.

"I thought that you would never want to see me again, darling," he told her, walking towards the bars of his cell to face her. She said nothing, and entered when the guard opened the cell door to let her in. There it was the expression that he had seen in Pyongyang when he met her the very first time. Fierce, and unyielding, a fiery beauty strengthened only in the cold of winter.

"Do I even have a choice?" Ryuka asked him rather vehemently. "Not after what you have done to me…" Still, there was a look of incomprehension on Makarov's face, and she did not seem to be blaming him at all. "I am pregnant, with your child Vladimir Makarov…"

If those words had come in happier times, Makarov would have openly received them. But now, Makarov did not know how to react, not particularly after that tight slap that she had given him just after she had announced the wonderful news to him. Oh yes, he knew how much she hated him, but just to see her standing right before him, Makarov knew that it would be worth any price to pay.

And of course, Makarov was overjoyed to learn that he was going to be a father. It was a little late in life, but still, he was going to have a family, a son or a daughter to call his own. Looking at the medical report that confirmed Ryuka's pregnancy, he immediately drew her into his arms, and said, "You have made me the happiest man alive, darling."

Ryuka, on the other hand, chose to be highly business-like, as usual. "How I hope that the feeling is mutual," she replied, pulling herself away from him, finding it easier and easier to do so. "Nevertheless, despite anything that anyone has told me, our child is innocent… I will keep this child, but I need your assurance that he or she is safe from you."

Those were words that carried dual meanings. The first one would be that Ryuka wanted Makarov to promise that he would never harm their child in any way, and that, he would have given his own life to see it through. The other, would be that she wanted him to surrender, so that his ever-widening reach of terrorist attacks would end, so that their future child could grow up safely, in a world without any war, pain and grief.

Despite all this, Makarov was still wary. She was an astounding actress, and had almost convinced him utterly that she had changed sides… That child in her womb could literally be anyone's. "I knew that you would not believe me," she said, and gave him another few pieces of paper. It was MacTavish's health report, and stated there, was that the chances of him becoming a father were very, very slim. "This proves that I cannot be with child by him, and for the past few years, he is the only man I have been intimate with, except you. And of course, because I was in forced custody in Shanghai, they would need to test the paternity of the child when it is born."

"I believe you," Makarov said, a sudden change from his usual manner. "And I understand what you are asking of me…" He took a deep breath, and returned the papers to Ryuka. "I only wish that when our daughter is born, that you ensure that you do not do anything that you would regret." They were so much alike, Ryuka and him, and he knew that she would be hard-put to put down anything like vengeance. He just hoped that she would not poison their child against him, just because they had been fighting on two different sides of the war.

Ryuka nodded, but chuckled a few seconds later. "How do you know that our child would be a daughter?" she asked him, placing her hand on his cheek for the last time before she left his cell.

"Because, darling, I have always dreamed of having a daughter, as beautiful as her mother. Ours, would have a fiery soul like yours as well."

* * *

Autumn 2017

Undisclosed Medical Facility

* * *

The infirmary was abuzz with activity, riddled with nurses running about the maternity ward, as well as NATO soldiers deployed to provide a close watch over the international terrorist that the three surviving members of the original Task Force 141 had taken down.

And now, almost nine months to the day when the three of them had single-handedly taken the Red Square and shot Vladimir Makarov to the point of rendering him immobile, a child was born to two fathers, and the mother who carried her. Yes, Makarov was right in saying that his child with Ryuka would be their daughter. And after a few hours of labor, the father was finally allowed to see the newborn, in the arms of her tired mother, along with Price, MacTavish, and Ryuka's parents.

"She is everything like you, darling," Makarov told her as he carried the little bundle of joy, swathed in pink towels in his arms. How could something so small be born into the world, he could never comprehend, but he knew that this little one was his; even without the need of DNA testing (the results would be ready in three days). Their daughter had red hair like Ryuka did, but her complexion, was definitely his, almost white like the snows of Siberia.

Ryuka smiled, and held onto MacTavish's hand. "Makarov… She does not heterochromia," she told Makarov, who could not stop looking as his already-sleeping daughter. "She looks just like you when she opens her eyes." Unlike her mother, Miryu's eyes were large and round although they were of a light hazel hue, which occured quite commonly in mixed parentages.

It had been a joyful moment, when for only a few hours, Ryuka had celebrated the birth of her daughter with those that she love, and with those that loved her. She named her daughter Miryu, which stood for "Beautiful Dragon", and was not given a last name. Ryuka had decreed that little Miryu would walk the world with her own destiny, and did not need to be tied or burdened by something as large as a family legacy.

* * *

And when Miryu was four months old, Makarov had been brought before the United Nations Security Council, and was sentenced to lifetime imprisonment, a sentence made lenient because it was he who surrendered to the Security Council, when he was tried in three courts, that of Russia, the United States, as well as that of the UN. Guantanamo Bay Detention Center, which Ryuka had so ironically joked with him about in Shanghai, was reopened to house him after extensive renovations had been made. His jailors would be NATO soldiers, all 100 of them, fully armed, keeping a ready eye on him at all times.

For their bravery, all charges upon the Task Force 141 had been dropped, and the blank check that had been given to Shepherd was passed to Ryuka, Price and MacTavish with only one condition. They could draw whatever sum of money they wished, but the very moment they cashed it, they had to work with the United Nations to rebuild the Task Force 141, an opportunity that none of them was willing to pass.

And as an added form of "compensation", Ryuka was promoted two grades, and received the same rank of "Major" with Price and MacTavish. Together, they would found the UN-Task Force 141, which was headquartered in New York, upon reclaimed land near Liberty Island.

But that had never been Ryuka's plans of vengeance. Yes, she loved her daughter, but she hated Miryu's father to the core of her being, and had planned the most sinister torture for him, one of her last ever since she left the field…

With the birth of his daughter, Makarov had thought that his family was on its way to build itself. With Miryu in the world, he would be a father, and Ryuka, the loving mother, but he never once saw his daughter or Ryuka ever since he had arrived in Guantanamo Bay. The only form of correspondence the ever-rising soldier had ever given him, were photographs of Miryu, her, and MacTavish, living in utter bliss.

During the first few years, Ryuka would send those photographs every few weeks, and Makarov had started to look forward to them, but after he had received the photographs of Miryu's fourth birthday, those photographs had stopped. His link to the only one in the world who shared the same blood, his own daughter had ended…

And a year later, he received photographs again, this time, of Miryu's fifth birthday.

This continued for about a few years, and then, there had been nothing from Ryuka, or Miryu at all. Two years passed, then three… four… five…

* * *

When Makarov had lost all hope of receiving anything at all, he received a video. It was Miryu, at about twelve. She had been told by her teachers to record a message to a chosen "Villain of the Twenty-First Century", a message that contained all that they thought about those men who had shed the blood of hundreds, blinded by hatred and rage. Ironically, his daughter had chosen to address her message to him.

"Dear Mr. Makarov," his daughter said in the message, her red hair blowing in the wind. Ryuka must have helped her to film the video message in Central Park. "I hope that you've learned your lesson. Everyone says that you're the worst of the bad guys, but I think that there's always some good in everyone. Those people that you killed in the Zakhaev International Airport were innocent, you know, and they could have lived happily with their parents and children. Who were you to take that all away?"

Had that condescension came from Ryuka, he would have disregarded it completely. But children, they could never lie. What Miryu had said, each and every word had come from her heart. Word for word, Miryu spoke to him about how he should change, and how he could have made it up to his victims. Of course, they had been simplistic, coming from a twelve year-old, but Makarov saw more into the video than that. His very own daughter had spoken as if he was non-existant, as though he was already dead, but how could it be? There were still NATO soldiers guarding the detention center, there were still surveillance boats zooming across the horizon...

"Mr. Makarov, I hope that you had a chance to change before you died... Then, you could go to heaven with all the good guys! I'll tell you what. When I get this assignment back from my teacher, I'll get Oka-chan to burn this disk, so that it can get to you like the Chinese said it could!"

So that was why Ryuka had sent him that video... That was why Ryuka had so willingly carried his child. She had planned this from the very start, to deal him the greatest wound ever, the greatest torture than one could ever face. To know that his only daughter did not know that he was still alive, to know that she was practically raised as the daughter of another man, and that all these years of waiting for a single chance to see Miryu with his own eyes dashed... This was what Ryuka had planned for him, for taking her sister away from her.

"You are a cruel woman, darling," Makarov said, knowing that those words would not even reach Ryuka. There was a glimmer of light that appeared from the envelope in which she had sent the video, and he found a tanto, a Japanese dagger. "You win..."

* * *

"Miryu-chan, what's wrong, lassie?" MacTavish asked Miryu when the girl suddenly stopped walking, a teardrop falling down from the corner of her eye. Strangely, she did not have her mother's dark eyes, nor her father's piercing blue ones, her eyes, they were green, and everyone had attributed it to recessive genes.

Miryu wiped off the tear from her face and shurgged. "It's wierd, Daddy," she told MacTavish. "I felt sad all of a sudden, but now, I'm alright... Funny, isn't it?"

MacTavish said nothing, and ruffled her hair. "It's probably an eyelash or something," he told her, and took her small hand in his. "Come on, your mother would have a fit if you're not back in time for dinner."

Miryu nodded, and continued walking with the man she had always known as her father, who was the British equivalent of a three-star general like her mother was. But who could have ever told a child that the momentary, unexplainable pain that she had felt, came from the eternal severance of the bonds of blood, when she did not even know such a bond existed?

* * *

HAN: And so ends the Redux! ^.^ Tell me how much you love and hate it, and all that kind of stuff! ^.^ I sure had fun writing this over the past month or so, and I hope that you enjoy reading it. And now, onto Black Ops, or at least, until MW3 comes out!


	27. End: The Daughter and the Heiress

General Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

UN-Task Force 141

UN-Task Force 141 China Headquarters, Shanghai

* * *

Ever since the Task Force 141 had been absorbed by the United Nations, they had split their time between America and China, now the two greatest powers of the Earth… Where the UN would feel the safest placing the world's greatest soldiers…

But the reformed and reorganized Task Force 141 was nothing like the old one of her youth. There was no more Shepherd, no more operations based on bad Intel, no more Captain and two Lieutenants… There was no more Ghost, Roach, Meat, Royce, Scarecrow… There was no more game-room in the west wing, no more lake-facing base, no more base surrounded by evergreen mountains…

This new Task Force 141 was highly transparent, its members truly derived from the four corners of the earth… It reported to all Secretaries or Ministers of Defense around the world monthly, although some of their operations remained covert. From a company of about a hundred men, they had exploded into two thousand, twenty times its original size. And she, MacTavish and Price (already a true old man) were the Generals that headed it.

The three of them had long been forbidden to enter the field unless they absolutely had to, and such a… restraint made her reminisce about the "old days" more and more. She could just imagine it. Roach would fail to make a jump yet again, and the whole team would panic, rooting him to find another way back… "Come on, kid, you could do it!" they all scream…

Of course, in the new Task Force 141, there were many Roaches, Ghosts, Meats and so forth, but they were not like her former companions, who had survived the five years of their old 141 only to have died in the bitter end. It did not matter now. They were in a better place with the Gods, and that was all she cared for.

* * *

"Oka-chan, you asked for me?"

A red-headed ray of sunshine entered her room, and she smiled. Her daughter. Her beautiful daughter…

"Yes, Miryu-chan, come in," she told the girl. No, she was no more a girl. She was a 20 year old Slavic beauty, all the more resembling her famous father, her real, biological father that she had never known. There were two gentlemen beside her, one from a premier Swiss bank, and the other, a very, very famous lawyer famous for defending the most notorious of criminals. The men took one look on her angelic daughter and tried their utmost best to still their shock and their awe.

The girl had green eyes that hinted of blue; And not only that… her bone-structure, that light voice of hers… If she had spoken in a Russian accent, there would be no mistake that…

"What's going on here?" Miryu asked, looking at the two strangers, and back at her mother. She had been to her mother's office countless times before, but she had not felt so intimidated, so to speak. These two men were practically staring at her, and those stares were not the kind which made her felt appreciated at all. "Who are they?"

"Mr. Klovsky is a lawyer, while Mr. Bienharte is from the Union Bank of Switzerland," Ryuka replied with a sigh, while the two men nodded their heads towards her daughter. "They are here to discuss your… inheritance."

Inheritance? Miryu had already inherited several lucrative properties that her parents had bought with the blank check they were given by the US Government for defeating Vladimir Makarov. What was left to inherit? Besides, their money, all 2 billion Euros of them had been stored in well-known and traceable banks worldwide, they were expressively forbidden to store them in Swiss accounts!

"Miss Algren-MacTavish," said Mr. Bienharte, rather nervously. "There seems to be a part of your… genealogy that your mother has not told you of. It is your legal right to inherit all of your late father's assets once you reach the age of twenty, per his will."

Those words angered Miryu. "My father is well and alive, thank you very much," she spat, emerald eyes glaring at the Swiss man. "I just had lunch with him…"

Ryuka held up her hand, indicating the need of Miryu's silence, a gesture obeyed by all. "Miryu-chan, Mr. Bienharte is right, I have not been very honest with you, child." Her daughter's eyes widened, and she only took the girl's hand in hers. "My sweet daughter, your biological father is Vladimir Makarov."

"That's impossible!" Miryu burst out. "He's the Ultranationalist that you and Daddy took down! He… he killed himself in prison when I was 12!"

At those words, Mr. Klovsky gave her two pieces of paper. "Miss Algren-MacTavish, these are your _original_ birth certificates, and the legal documents of your adoption by General John MacTavish."

Miryu snatched those papers from the Russian, and read them as fast as she could. "Miryu Vladimirovna Makarova…" she read her name printed on the Russian birth certificate. She had been born in a secret base in Russia, which location could not be disclosed, but she was immediately adopted by the man she thought to be her father the very same day she was born. "He really is my father?"

Her mother remained silent and nodded. There were no words that she could say to her young daughter. Not a word to offer her apologies, or any word to comfort her. MacTavish was right, she could not have hidden such a great secret from her forever…

"The late Mr. Makarov has entrusted all his legal assets to you, Miss Algren-MacTavish," Mr. Klovsky said. "These include three hotels in the UAE, numerous luxury cars, the estate in the Caucasus Mountains, a penthouse in Moscow, five mansions across Eastern Europe, and several… weapons factories in South America. All these are estimated to be worth at least one billion Euros of legal assets."

Miryu, like her mother, had been a fast learner. "What about the illegal ones?"

"There is a further five billion in his hereditary account in the Union Bank of Switzerland, miss," Mr. Bienharte explained. "All of these monies were used to fund his illegal operations throughout the world."

"Miryu, you do not need to take the money or anything he has given you," Ryuka intervened. "What you need to understand is that you are Vladimir Makarov's biological daughter, and I have done you a great wrong." She had thought her daughter would fly into a fit of rage. She had thought that her daughter would blame her for not telling her anything, but her daughter just sat there and blinked.

With eyes that reminded the world so much of her infamous father, Miryu looked at all three of them. "And what if I don't care?" she asked them. "I know what Makarov did. He was a bad-ass terrorist who wasn't any worse than any crack head like Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden… So what if he's my biological father? I didn't choose it, right?"

"Miss, it is your legal right to…"

"Shut it," Miryu silenced the Russian lawyer before pointing an accusing finger towards him. "You just want the Russian government to shut up about the backlog of taxes that Makarov's assets, and get your 20 year old legal fees, and you just want his money out of your sight!"

They had to hand it out to her, the girl was highly intelligent, as well as being highly decisive. Immediately, she seized a pen and demanded to sign every single paper that was needed to be signed. From being a seemingly broke college girl who was in Shanghai for the summer to visit her parents, she had become one of the world's youngest multi-billionaires in a mere few minutes.

* * *

However, it was all a façade, all a ruse. Just as how her mother had feigned strength before her birth father, she would feign indifference.

* * *

"Why didn't she tell me, Daddy?" she asked MacTavish the very same night when the Scottish General of the UN-Task Force 141 came into her room. "I should have known something as important as this, right?"

MacTavish looked at his daughter and ruffled her red hair. "Lassie, you don't know what Makarov had done to your mother," he explained. "Come on, I'll take you for a drive. I'll explain everything to you there."

They entered the slinky new versioned Porsche Carrera in the garage of their private family quarters in the UN-Task Force 141 Chinese Headquarters, jousting with the hectic Shanghai traffic the moment they were out of the HQ. "You were saying, Daddy?" Miryu urged. MacTavish just smirked inwardly and shook his head. Miryu was just as impatient as Ryuka was.

"Miryu, lass, thing is, your mother was the one who discovered Makarov's other function as the Shadow of Zakhaev, which means that he was the real leader of the Ultranationalists."

"You mean, Boris Vorshevsky was only a puppet?"

"Yes, lassie," MacTavish answered patiently. Luckily, he had learnt to deal with women of such temper much, much earlier. "And Makarov, as the Shadow of Zakhaev soon found out that he was compromised, and set out to hunt Reddie and the rest of us down." There was no need to tell Miryu who exactly the "rest of them" had been. She knew the previous Task Force 141 through the many stories he and Ryuka as well as Price had told her in her childhood. "At first, he only knew that your mother was one of the Daughter of the Dragons, so he burnt down the Kyoto Mountains… That was one of the reasons why Reddie hates him so much."

The burning of the Kyoto Mountains, Miryu knew. No one ever let her forget it, not even her maternal grandparents. "What are the others?"

MacTavish scratched his skin and said, "The other was what happened throughout the Russo-American war. He and Shepherd worked together, and wiped out almost a hundred men…" Until this day, he knew very well that Ryuka felt remorse over not being able to kill Makarov no matter how many times she met him, for she deemed that if she had killed him successfully in Pyongyang, she could have ended his "reign of terror".

No more words were exchanged until they stopped before a hotel that was to be a landmark of Shanghai. The Hotel La Dragone d'Oro, the Italian hotel said to be owned by a "rich Russian playboy". "Makarov owned this place?" Miryu asked MacTavish, who could only nod his head. She had been in the hotel before. She had been in the hotel every year for Chinese New Year's Eve, when she would dine in the hotel's main Chinese restaurant for the Reunion Dinner with her maternal grandparents, her parents and her Great-Uncle Price (whom she called Hi-jiji in Japanese)…

"This is where you were conceived, lassie," MacTavish told her, as if it had been the most normal thing in the world.

"Daddy, I don't get it," Miryu said, looking at the man she once thought to be her father in every sense of the word. "You love Oka-chan so much… Why would you… allow…"

"Lassie, I can't get Reddie pregnant even if I wanted to," the Scot replied simply. "Sperm count's too low or whatever shite like that, you know? So when you came along, you were such a gift to us." In fact, she was more than a gift. She was a blessing. Beautiful like her mother, intelligent like both her fathers, this child was a miracle given to them, and MacTavish knew that Ryuka could have never regained sight of the light without Miryu.

Of course, he had disapproved of Ryuka's methods of torturing Makarov using their daughter, but he could never, ever deny that he had come to love this beautiful young girl unconditionally as any father would his own child.

_If even one day she knows of the truth, she must not know how I had caused that monster to die,_ Ryuka's words surfaced in his head. _I took his daughter away from him for taking my sister away… For I told her that he had committed suicide in prison when she was doing that blasted project about him… She must not know that I sent him the video that she had done with a tanto to do the obvious…_

"So… all this doesn't matter right?" Miryu asked MacTavish. "No matter who I truly am, I'm just… Miryu… Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

MacTavish smiled, and drew his daughter into a hug. "Aye, lassie, and don't you forget one bit of it," he told her. "We love you just the same."

"Thanks, Daddy," Miryu said, "For everything."

* * *

HAN: Just got the inspiration to write this all of a sudden. Gives you insight on how Soap thinks of Miryu and Ryuka's thoughts towards the new and old Task Force 141s. ^.^ Hope you enjoyed it!


	28. Oneshot: I hate your guts

"What is it about me that you find so repulsive, darling?"

It was one of those rare times when Ryuka would visit the reopened Guantanamo Bay prison, the complex itself being reopened for only one purpose: to hold the most dangerous of all villains since the death of Osama bin Laden. This was the new and permanent home for Vladimir Makarov, and she was there in the beautiful sitting-room the NATO countries had fashioned for him.

She was no longer the angst-ridden Lieutenant who had lost her entire unit, fighting for survival in the war that was to be the greatest hoax in history. She was no longer afraid of him, but her hatred for him still lingered, even if he was the one who technically blessed her with the greatest gift she could ever receive in her current lifetime.

Those eyes, her daughter had the same eyes as he did. It made her wonder if his long-deceased parents also had the condition, the oxymoronic common rarity. The Spanish said that if one's eyes had different colors, they were highly untrustworthy, and they were right about Makarov.

"Your existence, for starters," Ryuka replied haughtily, trying hard not to scowl before him. She did not understand why he was in Guantanamo Bay and was not behind bars. Apparently, his surrender had warranted him a life of comfort, in order to keep him the facility; he was able to live a life of luxury within its walls.

Makarov chuckled. "I would like to think that I was the one who built your career," he told her. She was in her twenties when he first met her. Almost ten years had passed and still, she was so beautiful to his eyes. She was like fine wine which got better with age, he deemed. "But let us put the past aside, you will not come here unless you have something about our daughter to tell me about."

It was her way of torturing him, that much he knew. She would show him pictures of Miryu every now and then, and she would give him a few of them. She took so much pleasure in telling him what the child did or said, how cute and adorable she was, calling the scum that killed Zakhaev the child's father instead of him. He knew that she was no saint, that she was not above low-handed attacks like that, and he allowed her torment of him in that manner, mostly because he was anxious of news of his daughter. He loved Miryu from the very moment he laid eyes on her, even if he had only seen her face to face for 18 hours since the child was born.

"She begins her training when I return," she told him, looking at the area where Makarov could never set foot in within the facility, where any weapons his guards or any of his visitors would be stored. She only brought her katana that day. "She will carry a katana like I do when she completes it."

He smiled. "Miryu will be a great warrior like you, darling," he told her, reaching out to take her hand in his. It had never been soft, and it made him sigh sadly, knowing his daughter's hands would be the same as hers, but it mattered not. Miryu was a blossoming beauty, it was true, but in the world that they lived in, a woman's worth was not how she looked, but in how she changed the world, no matter how large or small the degree.

"She will not," came Ryuka's reply. "There will always be war, but Miryu will never know it for herself, only through me and her father. I can feel it; her soul is not for the fight. She will carry her own katana because it is asked of her. No more."

Those words only made Makarov more intrigued with the woman before him. She had a sense of… mysticism about her, As if she had been one of Tolkien's creations, had authors of his time taken women into greater priority. "But she is your daughter…"

"She is not an Algren," Ryuka answered simply, the clear bile and poison devoid from her voice. "She is merely my daughter, one of the Ryujou, legally able to carry a katana in Japan in public." Makarov knew, however, that she did not deny that Miryu was not destined for great things in the future.

"Why did you choose to fight then? You are a descendant of the Algren line, as you are of the Ryujou. You could have chosen a life like what you see for Miryu," he asked her further.

She sighed. She had never done so in front of him before. "No one has ever asked me this before," she answered him, realizing that he had been holding her hand for a long, long time now. "My parents were divorced after 9/11. They had no time for each other, and my sister and I were sent to the Kyoto Mountains to live with my grandmother. We were home-schooled and when we finished our A Levels, Shepherd came to us and told us that the American and Japanese governments have decided that the two of us would have our degrees as soon as possible and we were first accepted into the TSG under our mother before we got into the USSOCOM with Shepherd and my father after our training."

"So, I wasn't wrong in saying that I built your career," he teased her further.

"I built my career upon taking you down, Makarov," Ryuka replied. If looks could kill, he would be a dead man when he looked into her black eyes.

"And I gave you that knight in shining armor," he whispered into her ear. He knew how much and how deeply she loved John MacTavish, a clandestine affair between subordinate and CO that turned into a love match. "You love him so much that you would even turn to me years ago."

She slapped him, and it was not the first time she had done so. "I did what I had to!" she growled. "You had your men infiltrate the MSF for God's sake! You knew that Uncle Price and John would go to them for medical help after killing Shepherd… Why did you even bring this up now?"

"You look so beautiful when you're angry, darling," was Makarov's answer and he smiled even more devilishly to see her anger subside somewhat. "It never gets old."

If Ryuka had still been that angst-ridden Lieutenant seeking for survival, if she still had been his prisoner in Shanghai, she knew that she would have done something that she would regret to do. However, she was no longer in that situation. "You asked me why I found you so repulsive, Vladimir Makarov," she said, leaning closer to him, so close that he could smell the scent of her perfume. "I hate your guts."

Thus, she left, and Makarov could not help but to shake his head at how much a fool he was.

"Defeated by a woman…" he moaned.

But then again, were great men not all defeated by the women they so desired in one way or another?


End file.
